


break the system, trust your instinct

by fearlessavantgarde



Series: make a wish [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Abusive Manager, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Dark Past, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Intrigue, Lee Taeyong-centric, Lies, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Protective Lee Taeyong, Protective Suh Youngho | Johnny, shifting pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlessavantgarde/pseuds/fearlessavantgarde
Summary: Taeyong knows that he must stop their manager for the sake of NCT's future.Still fighting alone, he soon gets unexpected help and becomes entangled in a web of lies and deceit.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Everyone, Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee & Lee Taeyong
Series: make a wish [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115753
Comments: 32
Kudos: 125





	1. the heart hardens and thoughts grow gloomy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update on a regular basis.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, there might be a lot of mistakes and some things may sound a bit strange, sorry for that.  
> Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated. Enjoy!

######  POV: Taeyong - one week before comeback. 

_**T** aeyong's mind had grown darker._

It was such a deep darkness that he had increasing trouble holding on to the fading light that kept him from drowning. 

It faded, slipped through his fingers like dust, and was swallowed by something nameless that had settled down inside his chest, imprisoned by the bones of his ribs. 

When it was quiet during the night, a storm ruled his soul.

When it was noisy during the day, his soul was dying of thirst in a desert.

It wasn't normal. It definitely was _not_ normal to feel that way. To behave that way. Taeyong was aware of it, of course he was, he was neither stupid nor blind, just incredibly powerless. Helpless.

Nothing worked anymore, nothing he intended to do was put into practice. He was their manager's puppet who had cut his strings.

All of this went unheard, unseen, because the other members were not there to notice him desperately struggling for his sanity.

He _knew_ what he wanted to tell them. But he couldn't. He wasn't _allowed_ to. 

_"I’ve lost the ability to breathe. Teach me how it is done. Help me feel my heart again, to feel the way it beats, what it feels like to laugh properly, to experience joy and happiness ... because I’ve long forgotten. I can't do this by myself.”_

Those were the days when he was particularly miserable. For the time being, they still were an exception, he could still fight his way back to the surface. 

He feared the day when that would change and dark days would become the norm. When happier days, on which life almost felt normal, _happy_ would become rare.

Taeyong didn't have much time left before he was no longer able to do something about it. He had to act _now_ if he wanted to take action against their manager's abuse, before the man picked his next victim. Someone, who would break under the harassment. 

That the next target would be sweet, kind Mark - that was what Taeyong feared the most. _That_ he had to prevent at all costs.

**~**

It was getting very late, the sun had long set behind the skyscrapers of Seoul and Taeyong was sitting on the floor, bending over his notebook. Only the light from his bedside lamp illuminated the room; shadows danced across the walls whenever he moved.  
He tried to distract himself by coming up with new lyrics, tried to write down something positive, something hopeful.  


Sighing, Taeyong lowered the pen in his hands. Most of the time he avoided thinking about it, but he missed Johnny a lot. His gentle voice, his warmth, his touch when he would lovingly wake him up every morning… but all that felt like it had happened years ago and the memories were so distant that they no longer gave him comfort. Johnny didn't have much time for him lately, which was understandable given their packed schedule. 

With Johnny he felt secure, protected, cared for, truly believed that everything was going to work out for the best. Without his second half, there was always something missing inside of him. 

He combed his fingers through his tangled hair and stared down at the few lines he had written.

And _god_ , the lyrics felt _so_ wrong - boring, whiny, cringey and somehow he ended up wondering if his writing was supposed to be a joke.

He sighed again and got up to go to the kitchen, wanted surprise the other members with a home-cooked dinner. With some luck, they would return before he fell asleep waiting for them in the kitchen, as he often did. It was Johnny who then carried Taeyong to his bed. Sometimes, Taeyong could hear Johnny's low, soft voice in his sleep, singing a lullaby. 

Today he was going to cook Jajangmyeon, Mark's favorite food. Last time he had made what Yuta had asked for. 

Taeyong had just turned the corner, humming softly while picturing Mark's happy face as the younger one tasted the first bite, when he suddenly heard a voice in his head.

_“Lee Taeyong … I've never met anyone before who aroused and revolted me in the same proportion. This game is getting dangerous - for both of us.”_

A cold shiver ran down his spine and his heart missed a beat; his phone slipped from his hands onto the floor.

It was the voice of his manager.


	2. the new golden child.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day of Recording. Unfortunately, there is bad news for NCT 127.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, there might be a lot of mistakes and some things may sound a bit strange, sorry for that.  
> Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated. Enjoy!

###### POV: Mark - recording studio

"How did that sound to you, Mark?"

Mark shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, adjusting the headphones covering his ears. For a second, his gaze fluttered to the producer before focusing once again on the sheet in his hands. 

"I ... I think it wasn't bad, but I can do better. Can I try again?" He rubbed the nape of his neck.

"If you want to, sure. Go for it then."

And so he tried again. And again. _And again._

"Okay Mark, good job as always! I think we've got it," the producer declared the end of the recording session. 

Nodding, Mark smiled, but it felt fake on his lips. He wasn’t as happy and satisfied as he normally was after a recording. He had not given his best. 

Recording his parts had taken a long time today, because something was missing.  
To be more precise - _someone_ was missing. That someone was Taeyong.

Normally, Taeyong would be sitting over there on the couch, intently listening to him with those clear, focused eyes, flashing him an encouraging smile, whenever their eyes met.

He would occasionally throw in a suggestion about ways to improve his rap, or praise Mark when he put it all into practice with effortless ease. 

Taeyong always took recordings very seriously because he wanted Mark to be satisfied with what he did. He wanted Mark to be able to listen to the song years later without regret. Without a ' _at that part I could have changed this and that to improve it_ '.  
That's just how Taeyong was. Everything should be perfect for his friends. 

But today, a stranger Mark had never seen before was sitting in Taeyong's spot, and it made him feel quite uneasy.  
It made him nervous and insecure, his flow was not smooth, the intonations only good enough after several attempts. It was frustrating.

Just when he was stepping out of the recording booth, Johnny walked in with a coffee in his hand. Black beanie on his head, the blond strands tangled and messy, pale, dark bags under his eyes, oversized hoodie and sweatpants. As if he had just risen out of his bed and had teleported straight to the recording. 

Still, a dazzling smile lit up his face the moment he saw Mark. Johnny would always smile, no matter how miserable he actually felt. In that respect, he was a hopeless idiot. 

The older one moved a step closer to his dongsaeng, tousling his hair, an affectionate gesture that warmed Mark's heart. A small smile appeared on Mark’s face. A sincere one, this time.

To Mark, Johnny had long been like a big brother since the day he had arrived in Korea.  
To Johnny, Mark was like the little brother he never had.  
To each other, they were a small piece of home; refuge in a foreign land. They had a special bond. 

"Well done, kid," Johnny complimented him. 

"Thanks, bro," Mark replied in English. "You really don't look good, hyung. Are you feeling okay?" Mark frowned. 

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm fine. Been up a bit too late." 

"Have you ... have you talked to Taeyong-hyung?"

Johnny's smile faded instantly upon hearing their leader's name. He sighed heavily and buried his gaze in his cold coffee. Johnny absolutely hated cold coffee, and Mark's heart grew heavy.

"Yeah," was all Johnny said. "I _tried_ to, at least." Another big sigh followed. 

Seeing Mark already opening his mouth, ready to ask more questions, Johnny just shook his head. "Later. Okay?"

Mark nodded. It was out of character for Johnny to be so tight-lipped, and he couldn't help but grow even more worried.

"Hey, Mark, you’ve a face as long as a fiddle. It's going to be alright, don't let this get you down." He patted Mark's shoulder. "I'll buy you some ice cream to celebrate today's recording."

"I'm not a baby anymore, Johnny."

"That hurt, Mark,” Johnny laughed. “To me, you'll always be my little baby brother. Mom and Dad will always be there for you."

"Yeah, I know." Mark rolled his eyes. "And I'm there for the two of you," he added in a more serious tone. "So no secrets, please."

Once again, Johnny gave him a heartfelt smile. "I know, I know. No secrets, pinky promise." 

"And ... I want chicken. God, I _love_ chicken."

"Chicken? Did someone just say the magic word? My chicken-radar has kicked in," Jungwoo popped his head into the room.

"Yeah, Johnny-hyung's treat."

"What? I ... _fine_ , okay. Dinner’s on me. So, anyway, what are you doing here, Jungwoo?"

"We're supposed to gather around, there's been a change of plans."

Johnny cocked a brow. "And what would _that_ be?"

**~**

"Taeyong is not going to show up today. Management decided that he will not record this song. Instead, Mark and Jaehyun will cover his parts," a young woman announced, surrounded by the whole NCT 127 squad. 

None of them knew her, she hadn't even introduced herself, not doing herself any favors. "I'm really sorry." She bowed to them, as if it was her fault. 

"Are you going to kick him out?" Doyoung asked in utter shock, stunned.

"Are you trying to make yourself popular on your first day by cracking a joke?" Yuta was losing all sense of politeness. 

"I'll call management," Johnny decided, taking his phone out of his pocket, fingers trembling with contained anger. "And Taeyong." Mark and Johnny's eyes met, Mark pretending not to have noticed his hyungs that distraught. He himself did not know how to react. 

It was disturbing and scary to see Johnny getting this angry. He _never_ got angry. Kind, balanced, easy-going Johnny never got angry.

"What the _fuck_?" To say that Haechan, however, was a _little_ angry at that moment would be a colossal understatement. "Are they really _that_ stupid?"

"I refuse to cover Taeyong's parts," Jaehyun announced, rarely able to control his own growing anger. "I _absolutely_ refuse to do so."

Winwin and Jungwoo just stood there, paralyzed, lips moving, but not a single word coming out. Taeil looked like he was about to commit murder at any moment, and Mark ... Mark was clinging to Doyoung's arm, his mind going blank.

"You ... you can't do that to Taeyong. He'll be devastated," he whispered. "Can't he just come tomorrow? To record this song?" 

" _Don't bother calling management. They won't change their minds_ ," another voice cut through the room and everyone turned around in surprise. 

Slowly, their assistant manager approached them, hands casually in his pockets, a mirthless smile on his lips. He stopped right beside the young woman and patted her on the shoulder. 

"That's not all, by the way. Today is the day of unpleasant surprises." Snatching the phone out of Johnny's hand, he pressed the red button. _Calling Taeyongie … canceled_. The screen went black. "For others, however, today is a day to celebrate."

With a low growl, Johnny took his phone back and clutched it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Meanwhile, Yuta's head was turning so red it looked like it might explode,he hated unfair treatment like the plague. 

"What ... _Hyung_ , what do you mean?" Doyoung asked, visibly confused. As if functioning on autopilot, he wrapped an arm around Mark's shoulder, who was still glued to him like a little monkey. None of them understood what was going on. 

"I've been sent here to make sure none of you leave until recording is done," the assistant manager replied coldly. 

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" Jaehyun demanded to know. "Hyung, this isn't you."

"You are absolutely right, Jaehyun. Now," he slipped a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, carefully unfolded it and began to read the notes. All of them held their breath. "Taeyong will no longer participate in any dance practices after shooting the dance practice video for Youtube. Mark will be covering his parts in the performance. Furthermore, he will not perform in public for the entire comeback and Mark will be replacing him in other songs as well. _The end_. Any questions? No? Great, because that's all management had to say, and I can _finally_ leave this dump." At this point, his voice had taken on a very bitter tone. "I’ve quit, guys. Five years on this job, that's all I can take. It's enough, I've had it. Thanks for everything." He gave the young woman a little push that she was now standing in the middle of their little circle. "This is my replacement, say hello to Dong Young-Mi. Be nice to her and listen to what she has to say."

She forced herself to smile, clearly feeling uncomfortable. 

"I'm sorry," she repeated. Then she bowed again, but no one really seemed to be paying any attention. They were all too angry, too confused. So she backed off and got herself out of the line of fire. But she observed very closely what was happening here. What everyone said, how everyone behaved. 

"This must be some kind of sick joke. I need to see Taeyong, _now_." Johnny rushed past the others leaving the room.  
Jaehyun tried to catch his arm and hold him back, but Johnny roughly broke away from him, he was _furious_ , and Jaehyun had no choice but to chase after his hyung, so he wouldn't do _anything stupid_. Mark remained in a state of shock.

"Two down. Congratulations on your promotion, Mark. You're the new chosen one that SM will now overwork and underpay, but still has to wake up every morning with a bright smile on his face. SM's new golden child." 

Uttering these words, the assistant manager looked as if he had aged decades in a matter of seconds and Mark felt every cell of his body become ice-cold.  
He had just stolen something extremely important to Taeyong without meaning to. 

_This is wrong_ , was all he could think. _I never wanted that. I can't do that. I can't. I can't. I can't._

Mark felt awful, hot tears welling up in his eyes, a warm, consoling hand resting on the top of his head the very next second.

"It was just a minor incident ... I can't understand why they made this decision," Jungwoo muttered to himself. "It's completely out of proportion." Jungwoo looked so helpless, that you just wanted to sweep him up into your arms and reassure him. That's what Winwin did.

"Hey, hurry up, we want to continue recording!" a staff member called out to them, who had no idea what kind of drama was currently unfolding. 

"They're not going to get away with it," Yuta said with determination. "There's something fishy about this whole thing. Do they think we're _that_ stupid?"

"Better not get involved, guys. That's the only advice I can give you. Besides, finish up here, then you can go home, there's nothing scheduled after recording, just wrap it up," the assistant manager said.

"Are you saying we should turn a blind eye and just _drop_ it?" Yuta hissed, when suddenly Johnny and Jaehyun returned, escorted by two security guards. Johnny stared at the floor, looking equally humiliated, shocked, shamed and even slightly terrified. The red outline of five fingers glowed faintly on his cheek. _Just what the hell had happened?_

"They wouldn't let us go," Jaehyun explained in a weak, brittle voice, his face alarmingly pale, eyes darting to the guards.

"Hey, Johnny..." Haechan gently touched his hyung on the shoulder. That it was the youngest, of all people, who tried to comfort him was almost ironic. 

"What the fuck is this place? A damn prison?" Yuta shouted, pointing accusingly at the staff.

"Yuta..." Doyoung stepped up to him and gently pushed down Yuta's arm. Yuta just pushed him aside. 

"No, don't touch me! We can't let them treat us like this!"

"Yuta, please... please, Mark is ..."

Yuta's anger faded in an instant. "Huh? What about Mark?"

That's when all of a sudden chaos broke out.

"Oh, shit, what's wrong with him?"

"Mark! Hey! Fuck..."

"I think he's having a panic attack."

"We got you, baby. It's going to be okay, calm down. Take a deep breath, follow my lead."

"Quick, let's get him out of here. Johnny? Johnny, we need you. JOHNNY! Get a hold of yourself."


	3. within walls of glass and steel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaehyun, Johnny and Doyoung try to help Mark. But they do not know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, there might be a lot of mistakes and some things may sound a bit strange, sorry for that.  
> Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated. Enjoy!

###### POV: Jaehyun - recording studio

_Close your eyes, take a deep breath, square your shoulders, and keep going. There’s someone who needs you._

_All right_ , Jaehyun opened his eyes and gave a determined nod. They would fix this.  
First, fix Mark.  
Second, fix Taeyong.  
Third, kick management's ass.  
Pretty easy, right? The whole team ready to help. The whole team ... 

_… is one fucking mess._

The sudden announcement that their assistant manager was leaving and that Taeyong would be excluded from the next comeback, had only been the spark that lit the fire.

When shit hit the fan, it hit hard.

A quick glance at his bandmates was enough to put a damper on Jaehyun’s determination.  
He raised his hands and pressed two fingers against his temple, trying to rub the throbbing pain away, before deciding that it was time for someone to bring order to their precarious situation.

"Fine.” He took a single step forward. Jaehyun was not used to being a loud and assertive authority within the group. Normally, his place was the even-tempered middle; neither the youngest, nor the oldest. However, this was by no means a normal situation. So he had to step in. 

“Yuta, Taeil! Take Mark and get him to a side room!" he ordered the two, who reacted almost immediately, grabbing Mark under the arms to hoist him up. It was about time that they hid him from the prying eyes and stares of both the staff and the members: because the young rapper was curled up on the cold, hard floor; shivering, whimpering, sweat had broken out all over his body, while his face had lost all color. He was afraid, terrified, and Jaehyun couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes. 

Jaehyun thought he heard a phone camera click, as if someone had taken a picture. Enraged, he whirled around, but the staff members quickly retreated. At least some of them had the decency to ask if they could be of help, but Jaehyun refused. 

_Okay, first step taken. Fix Mark. Think Jaehyun, what's next? You're prepared for a situation like this. This isn't the first time someone has had a panic attack. In theory, you know exactly how it will go. Practically, you know what to do. You just have absolutely no idea what it actually feels like._

_Who was with Mark the first time it happened?  
Taeyong and Johnny._

_Who was with Mark the second time it happened?  
Taeyong and Johnny._

_Who was with Mark the third time it happened?  
Taeyong, Johnny and... Doyoung? No, it wasn't Doyoung. Ten. It was Ten. Ten is good at calming people down. But Ten isn't here._

_Who was there the fourth time...?  
Me. All the others. And... Johnny._

He suppressed a low curse. 

The next second, Jaehyun turned his head and fixed his gaze on the blond, tall man who stood there, completely motionless, one hand resting on his flaming red cheek, staring blankly at the floor. 

Johnny was not himself, Jaehyun wasn't even sure if he was in the same room with them right now, if he was realizing the chaos that was unfolding around him. He looked as if the guard had slapped his soul into space, and it was now adrift in the cold, dark depths of outer space. 

_Don't fail me now, you big idiot, for fuck's sake._

Briefly, Jaehyun felt the strong urge to slap him right on the other cheek to break him out of his daze. But that would have probably sent Johnny over the edge and Jaehyun would never raise his hand against his friends. He was just so stressed, tired, overworked, like all of them. 

Truth be told, Jaehyun just didn't want to be left alone with all the responsibility. It felt like a heavy burden weighting down on his shoulder and suffocating him.

 _Just how exactly has Taeyong been managing his role as a leader so effortlessly for all these years? Just how, how did he do it?_ he thought.  
The guy had to have nerves of steel, even if you wouldn't think so at first glance. He was so thin, so slender, but had a heart of gold. So _why_ wasn't he here? Where was he?

 _No. We can't always let him take care of everything. We' re all adults, no longer rookies._

While he was still struggling to make a decision, Doyoung stepped into his field of vision. Doyoung did not hesitate and grabbed Johnny by his arms, violently shaking him and calling his name. Johnny flinched, his head shot up and he glanced around the room, completely disoriented, baffled, and tilted his head, gawking at Doyoung as if he were a stranger. 

Doyoung, however, didn't budge an inch. Instead, he continued to speak to him in an insistent tone, piercing Johnny with a glare so intense that even Jaehyun felt goosebumps watching him. If Mark was in bad condition, Doyoung knew no mercy.

"Tell me, Johnny. How did you and Taeyong calm Mark down the last time? What did you guys do? What do we need to do? Answer me, _now_."

To Jaehyun's relief, Johnny's eyes regained their focus, but his pale face seemed to get a few shades paler, if that was even possible. For a fleeting moment, he saw something like guilt reflected in the honey-brown eyes, and Jaehyun could sense how wretched Johnny must be feeling right now. 

All he wanted to do was to reach out and put a hand on his friend's shoulder and try to convince him that all was well. But that would have been a lie that he wanted to spare them both. 

Johnny lowered his gaze, swallowed hard as he shook Doyoung's hand off. Then he turned to look at Mark - who had been dragged around a corner by Yuta and Taeil, everyone else following, faces all serious - and now, Jaehyun saw not only guilt but also panic flicker in Johnny's eyes. But Johnny somehow managed to keep his composure, to remain calm. He was clearly attempting to get his own thoughts sorted, which were racing through his head at breakneck speed.

Jaehyun stepped up to the two of them. It had become sickeningly silent in the room, as even the very last staff had noticed by now that something was obviously wrong. 

"I'm sure Taeyong is okay. Taeyong is strong. But Mark just isn't right now, so we have to help him. Pull yourself together and deal with whatever is going on inside you later Mark is more important now. You would never be able to forgive yourself. You know that. Don't you?" Jaehyun’s urgent voice was barely above a whisper.

But Johnny had already begun to speak. His gaze was fixed on a vague point on the wall, and he seemed to be slowly regaining his senses.

" _... just English_ ,”, he mumbled in a husky voice, trying to recall his memories. “When he goes into a panic, he can only understand and hear people who are talking to him in English." Johnny ran his hand over his face, looking incredibly exhausted, and glanced at Jaehyun. Jaehyun saw the barely-controlled anger seething beneath the surface of the taller man. 

"All right. Let's go," was all Johnny uttered with cold determination before catching up with the others with long, purposeful strides. Jaehyun and Doyoung only exchanged a meaningful glance before following him. 

Jaehyun knew that Johnny's anger wasn't directed at any of them, it was his strong protective instinct that must be kicking in right now. No one could blame him.  
He felt the same. 

Jaehyun had just closed the door of the small room behind him when Mark started screaming and struggled free from the grip of his hyungs, crawling under a table in a flash and curling up into a small human ball. The others stood rooted to the spot, shock and helplessness equally reflecting on their faces.

Johnny instantly rushed to Mark's provisional refuge, knelt down on the floor, and whispered a few gentle words to the younger one before turning to face the others. Whatever he was about to say, his word would be law. 

"Jaehyun and Doyoung, stay here. For the rest of you, please leave. Too many people in such a tight space will become overwhelming to him, he can't cope with it.” He broke off and let the words sink in. “Listen. Right now, Mark is very confused and very scared. So, please," he pointed to the door with an outstretched arm. No other words needed. The long sleeve of his hoodie slipped back and you could clearly see the imprints of fingers, blazing red skin, on his forearm. 

The others, however, obeyed immediately or did not seem to notice. In any case, there would be time for questions later. 

From one moment to the next it became quiet. A silence filled with the distressingly clear sound of Mark's rapid breathing, his soft whimpering - he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Their dongsaeng had his right hand clawed into the fabric of his shirt, just right above his heart; was taken with a violent fit of trembling.

" _I'm dying ... hyung, help me I ... I think I'm dying, my heart ... my heart ..._ " he whined heartbreakingly, his eyes overflowing with tears, his gaze restlessly darting around the room like a frightened animal caught in a trap. 

Jaehyun had a hard time not breaking down in tears himself. A glance at Doyoung revealed that the other had already lost to this fight. Silent tears were streaming down his face, even though he tried to wipe them away when he noticed Jaehyun's gaze.

Johnny was still kneeling next to Mark on the floor, but Mark would just start to panic even more each time Johnny reached out trying to touch him. So Johnny let it be and kept on whispering soothing words in his warm, sweet voice. Jaehyun joined him. 

"What is it that we can do for him?" He sounded desperate. He wanted it to stop. How could he not? His little brother was right in front of his eyes, hurting, yet he was so damn powerless.

Johnny narrowed his eyes and released a shaky breath before gazing into Jaehyun's eyes. 

"In about ten to thirty minutes, he'll have calmed down a bit, until then there's nothing we can do. Except being by his side and letting him know that he's not alone. And then, once that's … he would ...." Johnny suddenly fell silent.

"Then what? What can we do after that?" Jaehyun demanded. 

In the meantime, Doyoung had organized a bottle of water and was trying to shove a blanket over Mark to make him a little more comfortable under the table. Tried to contribute at least _something_.

"Once he has calmed down a bit, he would usually allow Taeyong to hug him. Taeyong would then softly hum a song until Mark slowly come back to his senses."

Jaehyun knew what Johnny was trying to tell him. Without Taeyong, he didn't know what to do from here on. So he put a hand on Johnny's arm, but immediately let go when the latter flinched. He mouthed a quiet _sorry_. Johnny looked away.

"Then, we'll wait. We will have thought of something by then."

Johnny nodded. Sighed. Doyoung had given up wiping away his tears. And Mark - Mark was in pain. He wasn't alone, but he had to feel incredibly lonely, wherever his mind was at the moment. Not here with his brothers, that was certain. 

So they sat there, the minutes ticking by and beginning to feel like hours. Jaehyun kept looking at his watch. 

Ten minutes. Nothing had changed.

Twenty minutes. Still no improvement.

Thirty minutes. Nothing. Except that now _he_ was about to lose his nerve, too.

After a full forty-six minutes, during which Mark's condition seemed to have worsened rather than improved, Jaehyun decided enough was enough. Without a word, he stood up and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"I'm calling Taeyong. _He won't show up today_ , my ass."

"Jaehyun, I don't know if that's..." Doyoung half-heartedly tried to object, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Johnny didn't move. Didn't respond either.

Not a second later, Jaehyun had dialed the familiar number and only had to wait two more for someone to pick up. He lifted his head, his gaze meeting Johnny's.

"Taeyong-hyung," he burst out, urgency in his voice, before his leader had any chance to speak. "Look, we know what's going on, the assistant manager told us about everything. I would never ask you to do us such a favor if it wasn't urgent, because god knows what will happen if management finds out we're going against their will. But..." he paused for a moment. "Mark has not taken it well. He's having a panic attack. There is nothing we can do for him. He needs _you_ , more than anyone. He needs to know that none of this is his fault. I think he blames himself and can't get out of his panic on his own. I know this is selfish, but please, get over here. We don't know what else to do. So..."

Suddenly, Johnny snatched the phone out of his hand.

"Taeyong. Whatever the consequences will be, I want you to know that you won't be facing them all by yourself. You won't do this, I swear by all that is sacred to me."

Johnny remained silent for a moment before slowly lowering the phone and absently staring at the screen, which now went black. 

"What did he say?" Jaehyun asked wearily.

"He'll come."

_"Thank God."_

_"Just hold on a little longer, Mark"_


	4. everybody's looking for somebody to use.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong heads for the recording studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, there might be a lot of mistakes and some things may sound a bit strange, sorry for that.  
> Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated. Enjoy!

###### POV: Taeyong

Taeyong had reluctantly agreed to everything his manager had told him. Even if he had almost choked on his own words. Even if his body and mind had opposed this kind of submission. Even if he had to give up on his dream for a short time.

He could still quite clearly remember sitting at the huge black lacquered conference table, so massive and intimidating that his skinny body had seemed ridiculously small. He sat there bent over the documents that would switch him off for now, like a robot that wasn't needed.

Disheveled strands of his dark hair fell into his forehead, sweeping over his puffy, fatigued eyelids. He blinked, gnawing restlessly on his lower lip until he tasted blood on his tongue, and wiped his thumb over the chapped skin. 

Taeyong must have stared at the words a little too long, his mind absent. He could not longer read them properly, they had blurred into a single alphabet salad, because all of a sudden he was hit hard on the back of his neck by his manager's flat hand. Taeyong winced and squinted, hands balled on the table, nails digging deep into his palms as a searing hot pain shot from his neck all the way down his spine.

_Breathe, Taeyong. Alright, good. Keep going._

Taeyong peered over his shoulder and a pair of stone cold eys stared back at him. God, how much his manager had to hate him right now. And how badly Taeyong longed to know the exact reason why he did. Should he nonchalantly ask about it? Taeyong suppressed a snort. Yeah. He was not tired of life. Yet. _But close._

By now, his manager knew the weak points of his body almost better than Johnny did. What an irony. They knew each other on a very intimate level. Taeyong knew what kind of mood their manager was in before he had even spoken a word. He could tell just by the look in his eyes.  
_I wonder if the manager feels the same. Sweet._  
_Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer._

It was not until another warning glance from his manager that Taeyong's fingers hesitantly reached for the pen and he halfheartedly scribbled an ugly _TY_ on the designated space. An elementary school child could probably have done a better job, but he wasn't willing to invest any more strength or effort. This tyrant would not be satisfied until he was crowned Emperor of Korea and every idol in the world kissed his stinking feet. So, quite a realistic scenario. 

Accidentally, Taeyong wiped his hand across his signature and smeared everything. In return, he earned another blow to the back of the head and gasped faintly as more flaming pain cramped his muscles. He secretly slid a hand to his lower back, massaging the places that tormented him the most, while trying to keep a straight face.  
His manager just hissed displeasedly and impatiently snatched the paper out of his hand, tearing it slightly in the process. He didn't seem to care. Just like he didn't care about anything that wasn't beneficial to him and his career. Was it normal to be that ruthless? Was it his inherent nature, or had he himself experienced things that had stripped him of any empathy? Taeyong wanted to find out about that, too. He wanted to know so many things, but each question would just entail with further pain, so he kept silent.

**~**

That Mark would be the one to fill his position - he certainly had _not_ agreed to _that_. It had not been mentioned in a single sentence. The manager had promised him to split everything evenly between the other members. 

He had been lied to, had been deceived. And the worst part - he should have known, it had been too easy. Nothing in life came free of charge, he knew that. Taeyong had simply been too exhausted to question it further, and now his failure was catching up with him. And Mark was the first to suffer from it.

So he had to make amends.

Taeyong did not waste a minute. Every minute was an extra minute of suffering for Mark. And Taeyong knew that each one of those minutes was another hour in hell for the younger rapper.

As quickly as he could, he threw on a loose black hoodie and sweatpants, quickly combed his fingers through his messy, tangled hair, before he hid it under a cap, pulling it down over his eyes, and hiding the rest of his face under a mask. Then he snatched his wallet and keys and hurriedly tied his shoes, half standing, half stumbling out to the door and storming out of the apartment, ignoring the sharp pain as his neck protested against these harsh movements.

Outside, he was welcomed by an icy breeze that crept through what little clothing he was wearing. Night had already fallen; lights, advertisements, and screens were flashing at every corner, and the streets were as crowded as ever. Seoul never slept, the city breathed and pulsed at night in a very special way that elated, inspired Taeyong. Normally, he would have taken a moment to enjoy the night time atmosphere he loved so much, but there was no time. His thoughts turned to how he could get to Mark as quickly as possible. 

Only after the sixth attempt did he finally flag down an unocczpied cab and told the driver the address, whilst already slumping in the passenger seat. The man just nodded and hit the gas as Taeyong put on his seatbelt and leaned his head against the cold window, closing his eyes against bright and blinding lights. A headache began to form behind his temples, throbbing like a second heartbeat. He wanted to ignore it, but knew it was only a gentle harbinger. So he sighed in resignation and fished out a packet of painkillers from his pocket, took one and swallowed it. He almost gagged as he felt the foreign object slowly slide down his throat without liquid. Starting to shiver, he held his hands close to the air vent of the old cab from where a cocktail of hot air and gas was blowing into the car. His body quivered. 

Taeyong tried to keep his mind occupied, because he didn't want to think about the tomorrow. If he was fortunate, no one would tell management that he had gone to the studio. If he was unfortunate enough, management was already there and would ask him to come in for a _little chat_. 

But Taeyong had already thought long and hard about what his next step would be. He knew he was powerless on his own, there wasn't much he could do anymore without support. Their manager had been one of the CEO's closest friends for almost fifteen years, making him untouchable. He had also only ever beaten Taeyong lightly. Humiliated him on a regular basis for over two years now, threatened him, insulted him, degraded him in the nastiest ways, treated him like the filth under his soles, but that was not enough to change anything. 

It was not unusual for some managers to treat their idols in such a way. They themselves got enough verbal beating and pressure from the higher ups and just passed it on to the ones below them. They had to compensate for their stress somehow. They were the poor idiots on duty who had to mediate and ensure that the wishes of the authorities were implemented accordingly. As long as it did not exceed a critical limit, it was okay to get a little more physical from time to time. 

To their superiors, it was fine. Taeyong resented them for tolerating it. Still, he was at the bottom of the food chain, even though _he_ was the one who stood in the spotlight day in and day out. What a strange world they lived in. But the real power was always possessed by those who never appeared in public. They lived in secret and pulled the strings from there. He was nothing more than their puppet. 

Taeyong loved his job. He really did. But at the same time, he hated the way he was so often controlled by others. That most of the decisions didn't feel like his own decisions. That in some ways he had to submit to a different opinion every day.

It was not easy to form one's own picture of everything in the process. One simply wanted to surrender to the other people's opinions. But that was the safe and easy way, and Taeyong had never been made for that.

He would have to confide in someone soon, it was the only right thing to do. No more secrets.

Still, he wondered if he wasn't just overreacting. It was common in this line of work, wasn't it? After all, was he simply too young and inexperienced, not mature and composed enough to just let it wash over him and then forget about it a second later? There had to be a reason why his manager detested him in particular. Maybe he had a major flaw that he himself was too blind to see? Damn it, he needed something to justify the manager's unbridled hatred towards him. What was it he was lacking? What was it that he could do to become a better person and finally live up to everyone's expectations?

These thoughts kept him awake all night. What he _could_ do. What he _should_ do. What he _had_ to do.

He had to do better.  
He had to try harder.  
He had to give more of himself than he was already giving.  
He had to become an even better version of himself.

Maybe then something would finally change? Maybe then he would know how to behave appropriately in such situations. Of course, he could have asked other people. His SuperM-hyungs, for example. But he felt ashamed, because he was afraid that he was indeed just overreacting and that the others would laugh at him.

It was ridiculous. He knew they would never do that. But the little shred of pride he still possessed refused to have him get up to it and ask Baekhyun-hyung or Taemin-hyung for advice.  
He probably still would, but not today. Not today...

The cab driver was either having a bad day - in which case they would have something in common, because Taeyong's day sucked big time - or he had been a race car driver in his previous life. Because _holy shit_ , they roared through the streets at a speed that made Taeyong feel all queasy in the stomach. Still, he didn't protest. Every minute counted.

Half an hour later, Taeyong stepped into the building, took off his cap to brush his hair out of his face before putting it back on. He paused for a second, frowning. Normally, there were always two security men standing guard at the entrance gate to the building. Where had they been ordered to go? Coffee break? Pit stop and one was stuck with his butt in the toilet? 

Taeyong didn't mind, but it caused his stomach to tighten even more. He pressed the button on the elevator to the sixth floor. The pain in his back forcing him to lean back heavily against the mirror. He didn't want to know what he looked like right now. _Sick_ , most likely. Under the blinding, mercilessly bright neon light of the elevator probably even worse, because they highlighted every ugly detail. He didn't have to make himself even more miserable, he wasn't quite that masochistically inclined after all.

Haechan was the first to notice him when, with a loud _pling_ , the elevator doors parted and he stepped into the huge entrance room of the recording studio. Well, _normally_ it was huge. But not so with so many angry young men crowded there and the air being so thick that you practically staggered back as if hit by an invisible fist, seeing the anger and concern blazing in all those pairs of eyes. It almost had seemed as they were the relatives of an injured victim were waiting for the doctor outside the operating room.

The doctor in charge was Taeyong. Except for the fact that the operation had not even begun.

Just as Taeyong pulled down the mask with his index finger, the maknae hugged him so sweepingly that Taeyong's knees gave way for a second and he was forced to take a step back. Haechan sniffed into the crook of his neck and Taeyong reassuringly pat his back, distractedly murmuring a few encouraging words in his ear. Then there was Jungwoo pulling him by the sleeve and Yuta peeling Haechan off Taeyong, and they all silently exchanged glances.

"We're glad to have you, Yong," Taeil broke the silence and everyone else just nodded.

Taeyong forced himself to smile, but it was not sincere. "What kind of leader would I be if I'm not around for my members?" he said, realizing how hollow it sounded. The others avoided his eyes. As if they felt guilty, which secretly stung Taeyong's heart. 

Jungwoo then wordlessly dragged him towards a door, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and looked him in the eye with a serious gaze.

"The others are already in there." He seemed like he wanted to add something else, but whatever it was never found its way to the light of day.

Taeyong nodded. "Thank you, Jungwoo," he said with a gentle smile before taking a deep breath and turning the doorknob.


	5. my body won't work for nobody but me, son.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NCT's Manager. Just who is this man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, there might be a lot of mistakes and some things may sound a bit strange, sorry for that.  
> Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated. Enjoy!

###### POV: NCT’s manager - Gil Kangdae

 _Gil Kangdae_ \- NCT's infamous manager.

But who actually was this man named Gil Kangdae? 

Those who knew Gil Kangdae well would say that he was a very lonely man.

Those who had made no more than a passing acquaintance with Gil Kangdae would say that he was a cold, hard, forbidding man.

And to be honest - nobody spoke well of him. You couldn’t find a single soul that was fond of him and his character. It seemed like there was nothing about him to love and appreciate. But let’s dig a little deeper.

So, what would Gil Kangdae himself say about his person?  
It was simple. _Nothing at all_ , for he had not given a thought to himself for years now. To him, there was no more Gil Kangdae. The last remaining piece of Gil Kangdae had already been buried two years ago on a stormy night somewhere under a tree in the forest, together with his golden retriever Haneul. The corpse of the only being in the world who had shown him unwavering affection, had kept him company, underneath a pile of mud, dirt and heavy stones.  
With Haneul, something deep down inside him had died as well. Simply erased, cut from his heart, and he knew he had lost that part of himself forever.  
Just as Haneul could not rise from the dead, Gil Kangdae could not go back to being the man he once was. 

Gil Kangdae wasn't lonely. To be lonely, one would have had to possess a soul first, and he had already sold his to the devil. There was no more Gil Kangdae. Only a body that looked like the man he used to be. Gil Kangdae was gone. Dead. Exiled. Burned to ashes. And that made everything so much easier.

He certainly _wasn't_ lonely, what an absurd, funny thought that was. Ludicrous. He was an incredibly powerful individual, standing above them all, able to spit down on their heads without facing any unpleasant consequences, because he didn't care about anything or anyone anymore. He would say that he was quite happy with the way things were.

It was a true blessing to be able to live that way. It was peaceful. Why hadn't the other humans taken a liking to it yet? All blind, stupid fools, naive to the last fiber of their bodies.  
For the life of him, Gil Kangdae couldn't understand why he was the only one who had realized the truth. 

_Except for ..._

His gaze found its way to the framed picture on his desk. Force of habit. The protective glass was scratched, the picture underneath yellowed and faded. Four young, handsome men beamed at him, smiling broadly, carefree as if nothing in the world could possibly do them any harm. He picked it up, his thumb sliding thoughtfully across the face of the man on the far right, whose smile was the brightest, most genuine, and the most beautiful. 

_Pathetic. He was so pathetic._

A strange, glassy, wistful look filled Gil Kangdae's eyes, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Uttering a muffled growl, he placed the frame back on the table to his right, the picture side facing down. As he did so, a splinter of the old wooden frame dug deep into his finger. He didn't flinch, just looked with a deadpan expression at the thick drop of blood oozing from the wound and grabbed the splinter with his thumb and forefinger before pulling it out with a tug, bringing it to his eyes and looking at it extensively, twisting and turning the small piece of wood repeatedly.  
So he was still human when his body could bleed? Interesting. Amusing. _Disappointing_.

Gil Kangdae looked up. Now it was only his poor dear Haneul who stared at him with loyal dog eyes. In a way, he was torturing himself voluntarily by capturing and framing those who had once meant the world to him. Eternally trapped in a photo, unaged and unmoving until it was somehow destroyed.  
It served as a kind of reminder so he would never stray from his path. So he would never forget that he had to pay for his sins.  
But in order to do that, he first had to get rid of the man who was the source of his misery. The man who had once shattered his soul. 

Gil Kangdae would ruin him. Take him down. Push him off the highest roof in the city with his own hands and watch with only satisfaction as he hit the ground. After that, he would finally be at peace. After that, the embers of rage that tormented him day and night would finally die down and his pain would be relieved with it.

~

There was a knock at the door. Gil Kangdae straightened up in his chair, adjusted his tie and wiped the blood off his thumb with a handkerchief, before carelessly tossing it into the trash. The slight movement was already enough to cause the fabric of his shirt to rub painfully over his arms. As a result his skin began to itch and burn unbearably; he had to suppress the urge to scratch furiously at his skin since it would do nothing but temporarily sate the feeling and cause it to come back tenfold only a couple seconds later, bringing blood along with it  
Over the past few weeks, the rash on his body had gotten worse. Blisters were festering on his chest and his forearms were covered in scabs and dry bloody. Yet he had no time for a visit to the doctor. Just a small rebellion of his tired, stressed-out body. Nothing to worry about.

"Come in!" he called in a commanding tone, leaning back into his chair and laying his arms casually on the chairs arms. His hand reached for the whiskey glass on his left and swirled it, causing ice cubes to clink against the clear insides of the cup

After hearing the tell tale click of the door handle moving, the door opened and his best and only friend walked in. Not even sparing him a glance, he draped his suit jacket and threw himself onto the luxury leather sofa, directly across from Gil Kangdae. With blatant disinterest, the CEO of SM-Entertainment crossed his arms in front of his chest and let his gaze appraise the room at length before raising his hand, wrinkling his nose and waving his fingers. 

Gil Kangdae only questioningly cocked a brow. 

"Your taste in interior design has always been a bit ... difficult to adjust," the man on the sofa stated, and Gil Kangdae set his glass back down.

"Chunghee, what a pleasant surprise. Good evening to you too, old friend."

"It smells like my mother-in-law's house in here. I should buy you an air freshener."

Immediately, Gil Kangdae's skin began to burn with even greater intensity. He knew that the wounds gave off a foul odor. Sweetish, slightly rotten, something like dead flesh; as if he had a diabetic foot. It disgusted him himself, but at the same time he didn't give a damn.

"Want to join me? We've been drinking together less and less these days," he offered then, gesturing towards the whiskey bottle with his chin. Heo Chunghee just snorted in response and a cold smile slid across his aged, but still handsome features. Gil Kangdae shrugged his shoulders, not protesting. "So, what is it that makes you come to me at such an unholy hour? Shouldn't you be home with your wife and kids by now? I don't want to be the reason she makes you sleep on the couch again."

Heo Chunghee chuckled softly. "The beast can be tamed eventually." He paused, gaze lost in thought "She has changed. Marriage is cruel to women, I hardly recognize her. She used to be so neat, attractive, lively, I honestly admired her. Now I'm just glad she's got the kids under control." He loosened his collar a bit and turned his profile to Gil Kangdae. "When was the last time I kissed her? Three months ago? When was the last time we made love? A year ago. When was the last time I had sex? Yesterday."

Gil Kangdae toasted in his direction. "Chunghee you sly old fox."

"Punishment will be cast upon me someday as payment for my lifetime of sins." His friend flashed him an innocent smile.

"As it will be upon us all sooner or later, for paradise is only a lie from hell to bring us more comfort," Gil Kangdae replied

"You seem to be in the best of moods. What could possibly be the reason for that?"

Again Gil Kang Dae just shrugged his shoulders. "I've got everything under control. Everything is going just fine," he stated simply.

It was then that he felt a slight tension building up in the air between them. Heo Chunghee had shifted grounds. Now they were in work mode.

"I wonder if by _everything_ you mean Lee Taeyong?" Heo Chunghee wondered with the eyes of a wolf, dangerously calm and waiting to pounce on new prey. "I heard that you excluded him from NCT's comeback. Admittedly, I wasn't very happy when I heard about it." He bent his body slightly forward, rested his elbows on his knees, hands relaxed, fingers pointing down.

"We spoiled the kid too much. He's started to think independently. You know how dangerous that can be if you don't tighten the leash in time."

"Well, our finances are equally unhappy about it. NCT without Taeyong is like eating a steak without any sauce. I'm also disappointed that you didn't consider me in your decision. Kangdae. Even though I grant you many privileges that others will never be given - please be careful. Do you understand? Your methods are a little ... special. I don't know if I like it."

"The loss will be limited. And Taeyong will come back to his senses."

"Kangdae..." Heo Chunghee drawled, raising a hand to his face, spreading his fingers and examining them before giving Gil Kangdae a sharp look. Gil Kangdae stood his ground unflinchingly. "Purely out of interest, why would you hate that child so much?"

Gil Kangdae laughed joylessly, and his lips stretched into a grin so wide it hurt. The movement causing oozing sores to cling disgustingly to the fabric of his shirt, and his collar seemed to be strangling his neck further with every passing minute they sat here together. But he couldn't show it; as he who shows weakness is vulnerable, so he clutched the glass in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"What makes you think I hate him? Actually, I quite respect him. He has talent; good looks, seemingly infinite potential, and we are lucky to have him under contract. I would even go as far as to say that he's like the son I never had."

Heo Chunghee's lips twitched, looking like he was going to burst into laughter at any moment. But instead he shot back a question that hit Gil Kangdae harder than it should have. Because Gil Kangdae, as mentioned before, had died a long time ago.

"You know..." Heo Chunghee took his time with his answer, a smug smile playing around his lips. "I think that's what you're telling yourself. The truth lies somewhere else, right?"

Gil Kangdae clenched his jaw so tightly that he thought his molars would crack at any moment. Then he forced a small smile.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"Oh, please, don't pretend to be clueless. _You_ know it, _I_ know it, and it makes me sad. Slightly depressed even, because I thought we would have gotten over it by now." Heo Chunghee sighed. "Or why are you always wearing black? Why, if you're not still grieving? So sentimental, Kangdae. It really adds to your charm. Women like men with a soft core."

Heo Chunghee was right. The truth actually lay elsewhere. He wore black because white shirts were soaked in blood within an hour. It was not because he was still foolish enough to mourn a deceased man after over a decade. His heart was made of stone. Lifeless. Motionless.

"And I've heard women like assholes more than anything else. So who do you think they would prefer, you or me?" he paused for a moment and took a sip of the alcohol that burned as it went down his throat. He welcomed the pleasant pain. "I'm going with the trends. Picked it up from the boys."

Heo Chung hee giggled softly like a little girl. "Oh, _sure_. You're so obvious. You've always been an open book. But back to my little ... let's call it _hunch_."

"Don't keep me in suspense, Chunghee. Your cute wife is waiting."

The CEO just waved it off. "I'm sure she's also found someone to warm her bed. Or rather, pre-warm it for me." He then rose smoothly and walked over to Gil Kang dae, still sitting at his desk. Heo Chunghee’s gaze slid to the flipped down photo frame and a knowing smile briefly lit up his face.

"How's your dog?"

"He's eagerly waiting for me to come home, just like your wife and kids."

"So persistent today."

"Comes with the job."

"Never forget who you owe your job to."

Then, in a flash, Heo Chunghee reached for the old picture, lifted it up, and smiled as he looked into the familiar faces. His gaze lingered on one of them. Meanwhile Gil Kangdae's whole body had stiffened and cold sweat began to form on his temples. 

Heo Chunghee looked at him, still holding the picture in his hand. Then he leaned in closer until Gil Kangdae felt a hot breath brushing his cheeks.

"You know, my dear Kangdae, the truth why you hate Lee Taeyong so much...." Heo Chunghee's eyes flashed. “... is because you see your old self in Taeyong. Am I right? Stop being so pathetic. Stop living in the past, it's so unhealthy. Let the dead rest and live your life."

Almost brotherly, he then encouraging patted Gil Kangdae on the shoulder. "Just some well-intentioned advice."

A distant click of what must have been the door handle sound told Gil Kangdae that the CEO had left the room. He sat there as if frozen in time, felt the stares of his friends, as well as those of his dog on the back of his neck. He shuddered.

In his mind he could hear their voices whispering hauntingly into his ear: _It's your fault. If it weren't for you, everything would be exactly the way it was back then. We would still be together, four friends for life. But now it's too late. We are dead. Avenge us. Avenge us. Avenge us._

~

_So, back to our question._

_Gil Kangdae. Who was Gil Kangdae?_

_Just a victim of his own misdeeds._

_A victim of the system._

_He had heard things that were not meant for his ears._

_He had seen things that had not been meant for his eyes._

_And he knew what he had to do now._

_Ruin him._

_His best and only friend._

_And the first step to achieving that goal was to get NCT out of the way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, things get a bit dramatic for a short while, but then finally there will be some comfort! c:


	6. carried myself into this beautiful prison.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again he had foolishly fallen into a trap, neatly laid out just for him. All he wanted was to be by Mark's side, and right now, there was nothing more than this thin door separating them.
> 
> Special thanks goes to the one and only bek I have in this world, saranghaeyo.

###### POV: Taeyong - recording studio

" **Lee Taeyong. Don't move.** "

Taeyong's head shot up and he froze, narrowing his eyes, hand still resting on the doorknob.

He was very familiar with that authoritative tone; it haunted his nightmares too often. He knew it, feared it and absolutely loathed it. But even more, he despised how his body was already reacting on its own: His stomach tightened, his heartbeat quickened as pure adrenaline rushed through his veins. It felt as if it would burst out of his chest if it didn't slow down. 

Barely keeping his composure, he inconspicuously pressed a firm hand against his lower abdomen, forcing himself to remain calm and take deep, steady breaths, even though his reality was óne of his worst fears come to life. The worst part was struggling to suppress the strong instinct that was ingrained in his mind a long time ago, to run for his life.  
Taeyong didn't want to be confronted with whatever was about to come, not now, not when his thoughts revolved around other things, not when his energy reserves were nearly depleted.

Nevertheless, he knew that events like this never occurred purely by coincidence, and his premonition was waiting to be confirmed. His subconscious was far too eager to whisper to him that he had once again been thinking too naively.  
As one could be sure that high tide followed low tide, an unusually peaceful period followed by the catastrophe.

Clenching his teeth, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before slowly turning to the voice behind him.

He lowered his head and stared at the ground, his eyes stinging slightly. 

Once again he had foolishly fallen into a trap, that had neatly been laid out just for him. But he had no choice. He never had a choice, and never would he have refused Jaehyun's request. All he wanted was to be by Mark's side, and right now, there was only this thin door separating them. 

He was always one step behind. As if his goal would be just out of reach and blur before his eyes. Never getting any closer to it; no matter how fast he was running, no matter how much his lungs were burning and begging for oxygen, no matter how much his muscles were aching with fatigue.

But if he could no longer run, then he would simply stop and find another way.

Determined, he raised his eyes, took off his cap and threw his head back, his hair slipping out of his forehead.  
_Try me_ , was the message written in his eyes. Taeyong turned and faced them. He knew that he would regret what he was about to say. But it was something he had _wanted_ to say for a long time. 

"What? You don't want me to move? Well, I don't care," he replied in a dangerously soft and low voice. His gaze focused on the face of the man who was towering him by what must be more than a head.

Their eyes met. Hard, fierce, and hostile. A fire burned in Taeyong's eyes; resoluteness as well as reluctance to obey this order was reflected in them, while those of the security guard watched him with disgust as if he were an annoying fly buzzing around his head. A nasty insect that he wanted to squish between his fingers. 

The guard tilted his head to the left, then to the right, bones cracking in the process. Taeyong went cold and sweaty all over which was nothing new, but neither was his fearless gaze, which was full of strength and usually only seen when he was performing.

This was the old Taeyong. The Taeyong he had lost on his way. The Taeyong he wanted to be again. 

"You better not think of this as a game, kid."

The man stepped closer.

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek, let go of the door handle and straightened up. 

The man stepped closer.

Taeyong wanted to back away, but his feet were frozen to the ground.

"It wasn't a game from the start. Not to me, not if others are harmed and hurt.” He broke off. “I don't want to be a part of it. There are no official rules," _and it’s making me sick_. His voice was barely more than a whisper, yet so sharp and forceful that the man could clearly hear every single one of his words. _No rules, only threats and lies_. But that, he did not speak out loud. He had already gone too far, further than he should have dared to go, pushed by his worry, pent-up anger and despair.

"One does not exclude the other."

Another voice made him flinch. Taeyong's gaze darted to a second man who stepped up beside the guard. He was a little slimmer and older than his colleague, with short greasy hair and glasses with thick lenses. He looked like a third-rate lawyer on some trashy tv-show would look like. 

Taeyong did not know him. However, he _did_ know that the guard was one of the manager's henchmen, so this other guy had to be too. These people seemed to crawl out of dark holes in the ground wherever he was. It was frightening and all the more disturbing. 

"What is it this time?" Taeyong demanded, more confident than he felt.

"It's _you_. Surprise surprise, this time it's _you_ again. Follow us, please," the bodyguard commanded.

 _Right_. That was the only answer they were willing to give him. 

Taeyong took another deep breath. Held it. Released. He had made up his mind. Their eyes locked again.

" _No_. I won't." 

And he was fully aware that with these words he had just unleashed hell on Earth.  
Sometimes you had to confront the worst to hopefully one day be able to see the good again. The path he had set his eyes on was reminiscent of hell but he would push all the way to the very end or die trying. 

He looked the men firmly in the eyes, his hands clenched into tight fists. "I certainly _won't_ ," he repeated, stepping towards the door. “I’m tired of this. I have a will of my own and I will not leave. ”

Quickly turning around, Taeyong turned the door handle and pushed the door open. From the small crack that had already appeared, he could already hear the soft murmuring of his members inside, but before he could open it further, he was grabbed from behind and pulled back without any warning. 

Taken off guard, a strangled gasp escaped his throat as the hand abruptly let go of him. He stumbled and toppled over before falling onto the concrete floor. 

Thankfully, Taeyong managed to catch his fall on his hands and knees before his head hit the ground. If he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t have gotten away from just a few scrapes and bruises. Later, he would casually remark about how he never would’ve thought that his dancing abilities would save him from injuries himself in that situation, when he had allowed himself to lower his guard and say something that unnecessary and careless. But that was later, Taeyong was currently very busy. Rolling onto his right side, he looked up with a myriad of fury, shock, and confusion flickering across his eyes.The guard was looming over him like the devil himself, casting his long shadow on Taeyong at his feet. 

"Why don't you tell him yourself? I don't enjoy delivering bad news," the man hissed. 

Not a second later, he had pulled his phone out of the breast pocket of his shirt. Taeyong tried to push himself up; breathing heavily with dizziness that made his vision spin. He could already see those thick leather boots digging deep and ruthlessly into the pit of his stomach. But the man surely would not dare to do that. Not here. Not where people could see and film the exchange. At least that was what he hoped.

The next moment, someone answered the phone call. It was then that Taeyong was overcome with pure horror.

"No!" He shot up and desperately tried to snatch the phone from the man's meaty fingers, but the latter reflexively raised his arm high up into the air, and Taeyong grasped at nothing. 

The guard pushed him backwards and Taeyong staggered backwards once again, struggling to keep his balance.

Just when he thought he would trip - an possibly injure himself - his back bumped against something solid and warm. _Johnny_. He recognized the scent of home immediately. The next second, a strong arm was wrapped around his waist and long fingers reached for the bodyguard's phone. Startled by the unexpected attack, the guard just let it happen, blinking incredulously. 

For two heartbeats, absolute silence reigned, and heatseeped through Taeyong's shirt where the fingers pressed against his waist. Then a soft _ring_ cut through the silence. 

The call had been disconnected. 

"Go inside, Taeyong. Hurry," he heard Johnny's familiar, soft voice whisper close to his ear. The faint breath brushed over his left cheek and gave him goosebumps on his arms. Waves of relief and gratitude flooded through his body all the way from the top of his scalp to the tips of his toes. "I'll take care of this. Please trust me."

It took Taeyong a moment before he grasped what was going on. "Johnny, I-"

"No back talk. I know what I'm doing. You can't do anything out here, and I can't do anything in there. I have a little _something_ to talk about with this man anyway. ” 

Countless warnings he wanted to give Johnny rattled through his mind and he turned his head until his chin grazed Johnny's jaw, he opened his mouth and was already about to say something, but Johnny just shook his head. 

"I'll be fine." The grip around his waist tightened one last time before Johnny let go of him. “ _Taeyong. Go._ " 

Johnny pushed Taeyong gently toward the door. The last thing he saw before the door fell shut between them was the calm, confident smile on Johnny's lips.  
Taeyong tried to ignore the stinging sensation, pricking his heart sharp like needles, and hurried to where Mark was still cowering under the table. 

Johnny would be fine. Mark would be fine. He was here, with them. 


	7. faded in my last song.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then, Taeyong raised a hand and wiped the tears from Mark's cheek with his finger. Touch impossibly light and full of affection, as if Mark were made out of fragile glass that would start cracking at any given moment. 
> 
> Maybe in that moment they both were.

###### POV: Taeyong & Mark

People say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. There was certainly some truth to that, but Mark took that _literally_ the moment he sensed someone entering the room - Taeyong? If so, his worst fear at the moment had come true.

It all happened too fast. 

Taeyong had spotted Mark at first, deeply concerned about him and the whole situation they were trapped in. With slow, silent steps, he approached Mark while gently whispering his name with an incredibly warm and comforting tone reserved for the people he cared most about. Upon hearing Taeyong’s voice, the younger man's gaze suddenly shot up towards him and Taeyong could see him more clearly now. Mark's face was drained of all colour and a pasty white, eyes puffy and bloodshot from all the crying; wet hair plastered to his forehead from all the sweat and tears that had been expelled from his body And when he recognized Taeyong’s voice through the hazy fog in his head, Mark’s body reacted all by itself. 

Only a split second later, Taeyong had to helplessly watch as Mark, only a few steps away, had slouched forward, and cried out with pain clearly shown in his voice. Doyoung jumped up, trying to push Taeyong out of the way; but he didn't make it in time, and Mark spilled his entire stomach contents all over the floor and on Taeyong's shoes.  
Taeyong's whole body froze on the spot, completely paralyzed, when he saw the concentrated load of pain and agony on Mark's face and his heart went ice cold with shock and dread. He felt his own heartbeat speed up, pounding hard and fast against his ribs.

"Mark…" Taeyong breathed, pained by the sight of his friend. _This isn't my Mark_ , he thought as his hands began to tremble all over again.

"Shit. Mark, oh, I … Mark, hang in there!" Doyoung's voice echoed somewhere through the back of his head, faded, his own thoughts were too loud, so unbearably loud, confused and distraught that he didn't pay attention to Doyoung's panic. But somewhere inside him he knew he should have. He was the leader. _He should have_.

His breath caught in this throat as an awful thought started to form in his mind. 

Could … could it be that Mark was _scared_ of _him_?

How else could he explain his intense reaction upon seeing him walking inside the room? And for a fleeting moment, he saw his manager's gloomy face hidden within the shadows, appearing right before his eyes and nodding in approval, voice deep and proud. _You're following in my footsteps after all, Taeyong. That's my boy, that's exactly how I raised you_.

No, no, it was ridiculous. _Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous_.

These were _not_ his own thoughts. This was not _him_ thinking such awful things, these were foreign thoughts that did not belong in his head. Poison. An ugly splinter stuck in his brain, planted by somebody else.  
His breath was erratic, but he couldn't panic here. Not when there are so many other important things he has to focus on.

He raised his head, his chin trembling weakly, and gritted his teeth. His gaze drifted to Mark. 

_Taeyong. Back to the present. Back to your friends. Go back. That all lies in the past, what matters is what you can do now. So do it. Fight it. Don't give in._

After what seemed like a second later, he snapped back to reality. Not much time could have passed, and next to him, Doyoung tried to talk to Mark, fear resonating in his shaky voice, but the latter didn't seem to hear any of the words. 

Taeyong slowly looked down at his shoes, saw the vomit. Looked at Mark. At Doyoung. Back to his shoes. Saw more vomit covering the floor. It reeked disgustingly, but Taeyong didn't care. He could not care less and would not retreat one step. The pure affection he felt for the younger rapper made him block out everything else. 

Still in a bit of a daze, he decided to get closer, and took a step toward Mark, as Doyoung's voice cut sharply through the room. Taeyong flinched and paused midstep.

"Taeyong-hyung, don't."

Confused, Taeyong met his eyes, but in Doyoung's he could only see anxiety and distress. Taeyong hated having to see his members so broken and vulnerable, for it caused something to inevitably break in him as well. It hurt in many ways.

"Wh-...”

" _Don't_ ," Doyoung breathed. "He lashes out if anyone gets too close to him. He'll get hurt if we force ourselves on him."

"I get it. Doyoung-ah?" Taeyong said in a calm voice. 

"Yes?" 

"I need your help here."

"Always, Yong," Doyoung replied immediately. 

Taeyong thanked him by smiling softly at him and gestured with his chin towards the door. 

"Please go and check on Johnny-hyung to make sure he's okay. I can't have another one of you getting into trouble. I don't want him to deal with this alone."

"What's going on out there?"

"I don't know and that worries me. But I know he could need your help, you're capable, Doyoung. Mark is safe with me, alright?"

"All right. I entrust him to you, Yong." Doyoung nodded and stood in the room, posture lost and indecisive before exiting. Now it was only Mark and Taeyong.

Taeyong ignored Doyoung's warning and with one big step he had already closed the distance between him and Mark, and a heartbeat later he was by Mark's side pulling the younger boy into a tight embrace. Mark felt so cold.

"I'm here, Markie, I'm here. Sorry it took me so long. Sorry you had to suffer," Taeyong lowered his voice to a whisper. 

When he felt Mark's body stiffen and begin to fight him in his hold, tearing at Taeyong's clothes and clawing at him, Taeyong only pulled him closer to his chest, running his fingers through Mark's hair and gently burying his head in the crook of his neck, even though the latter resisted. He could feel Mark's violent heartbeat, his too rapid and irregular breathing, and for a second, it felt too much like his own. "It's me, baby. Taeyong. You haven't forgotten me, have you?" he murmured, resting his chin on top of Mark's head and closing his eyes. Shut the world out. Ignored the pain as Mark bored his fingers deep into his arms, probably creating colorful bruises that would appear after a few minutes and disappear in a day or two. It didn't matter to him. Physical pain didn't matter anymore. It was just Mark so it was alright.

"It's not your fault, Mark-ah. It's not your fault. It's fine, you hear me? You should never have to be ashamed of such things, sometimes you just can’t control your body and that’s okay. No one is perfectly in control, even if we, as idols, are expected to be most of the time. Complete perfection is nowhere to be found. It's okay to mess up sometimes, showing the human side of yourself."

Softly, Taeyong began to hum a familiar melody. Reminiscent of a warm spring rain; as soothing as a silent night spent gazing at the calm ocean waves; and as comforting as the sight of the bright stars and the moon high above in the sky.

 _Don't punish yourself for things you can't change_ , Taeyong would often tell the others. _Don't be too hard on yourself. You are allowed to make mistakes. Help each other overcome them, that's what the team is for. Day and night. Wherever in the world you may be._

But when nothing seemed to help and Mark still wouldn't calm down, Taeyong started singing in a low, velvet voice, thinking back to the day when he had asked Johnny to teach him the English lyrics of the song Mark had shown him a while ago.

On a rainy day, Mark had sent him a video of a cute, fluffy dog listening to his owner play a song on his kalimba. When Taeyong had watched it, he had felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time. Although unlikely, it was like the younger one knew that Taeyong hadn’t been feeling well that day and with that the short clip he had been pulled out of his dark thoughts and back into the light.

So Taeyong sang to him.

_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter._

Mark's nails stopped digging into his biceps and his hands dropped limply to his sides.

_Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here._

Mark's body gradually became calmer, the trembling subsiding. Taeyong's fingers ran soothingly through Mark's soft hair, again and again as time lost its meaning.

_Here comes the sun do, do, do._

Mark slumped, curling forward and Taeyong felt hot, wet tears dripping onto his collarbone.

_Here comes the sun._

Mark's fingers found their way to the front of Taeyong’s hoodie and clutched it tightly. 

_And I say it's all right._

As Mark squeezed out a choked _hyung_ , Taeyong's last lyric faded into silence and he began to rock Mark back and forth in his arms like one would comfort a small child after a bad dream. He brought his cheek to rest against Mark's temple.

"It's fine Mark. _You're_ fine."

"I- ... I'm so sorry hyung, I'm so sorry, I don't k-... know wha- … ", Mark stammered in a broken voice between two heart wrenching sobs and was about to pull away from Taeyong when the latter quickly wrapped a hand around the back of Mark’s neck and placed him back against his chest, preventing him from escaping. 

"There's no reason for you to apologize. Not at all. So please, don't be afraid." Taeyong slowly opened his eyes and gazed absently over Mark's head at the bare wall. "But _I'm_ , sorry I wasn't here. I should have ... forgive me."

He could hear Mark at his throat murmur something he didn’t understand in English several times, and patiently waited until the sobs slowly lessened and the tears stopped flowing. 

Then, Taeyong raised a hand and wiped the tears from Mark's cheek with his finger. Touch impossibly light and full of affection, as if Mark were made out of fragile glass that would start cracking at any given moment. 

Maybe in that moment they both were.

Mark seemed to have relaxed by now and raised his head, but still didn't dare look at Taeyong. Taeyong let his gaze wander over Mark's face and remained silent for a long, long moment before finally speaking up.  
"None of this is your fault, Lee Minhyung." He paused. "Not for a second did I blame you for all what had happened. Not with a thought did I hold you responsible. So stop being a silly boy and don’t torture yourself like this. I can't stand to see you like that. I don't want to see you like that ever again."

Upon hearing the smile in Taeyong's voice, Mark turned his head to face him. At first he just stared at Taeyong's chin before his eyelids fluttered and found their way to meet the older man's eyes. Teardrops still glistened on Mark's long lashes and again Taeyong caressed his cheek with his thumb, still smiling warmly. And when Mark did not answer, he simply continued speaking. 

"All together, we will find a solution. I am by your side, _on_ your side. I will always be there to support you. Got that?" Taeyong waited until Mark slowly nodded, barely noticeable, wiping his tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and sniffling. "All right. Mark, listen to me. I admire you. I respect you. I look up to you. I love you like a little brother. You’re really, _really_ great Mark-ah and don't you dare ever forget that. There aren't many people on earth who still have such a pure, sweet, sincere heart like you have and you should be proud of it." Taeyong gently poked Mark's chest with his index finger, just above his heart. That's when new tears came to Mark's eyes.

"Oh, no, please stop crying now if you don’t want me to join in right now," Taeyong laughed softly, leaning forward and planting a light kiss on Mark's forehead. "Come on Markie, give me a smile. I like smiling Mark the best."

Mark lowered his eyes. "Taeyong-hyung..."

"What is it?" Taeyong hummed and brushed a strand of hair out of Mark’s forehead.

"I'm just so afraid of losing you. I don't want to replace you. I don't want to be the _new Taeyong_. Every night I dream about you leaving us. And you have to leave because of me. Because of what I did or do in the future."

Mark's words hit him like a brutal blow to his gut. Momentarily speechless, Taeyong only managed to regain his composure with great difficulty after a minute of silence. He gulped down the giant lump in his throat and his mouth suddenly became all hoarse and dry like sandpaper. Then hesitantly, he began to speak.

"These are just dreams and completely unreasonable ones at that. That's not reality. I'm still here, aren't I? I would never leave without a fight. I would never give up my dream just like that. And never because of you." 

Mark was silent for a long time before he shifted uneasily; their eyes locking again.

"Then why do you look like you've been already fighting for years? You look so, so tired, hyung. And not just since yesterday. I'm worried, we all are." He was clearly uncomfortable voicing the question, but was brave enough to confront Taeyong with the obvious.

Taeyong opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He didn't move to avoid Mark's sudden intense gaze. Instead, he gave a weak smile, a muscle on his jaw twitching under the skin. It felt like he couldn't take a step forward or back. He was trapped.

 _Because of that man. Because I’m in SM. Because I’m in the entertainment industry. Because I’m still alive._ But only an absent answer of "Because I am Lee Taeyong," escaped him before his thoughts drifted off far, far away, his eyes losing focus for a split second. 

"That's not much of an answer," Mark retorted, sounding slightly upset.

"Right, sorry." Taeyong chuckled softly, but it was sad and broken sounding from the way it looked like he was only a couple steps away from hysterical and a few more from full on sobbing. It made Mark ache from just listening to it. "And here you go, worrying about others when _you're_ the one who should be worried about. I almost got shot in space with how fast that cab driver sped through Seoul."

Mark just blinked at him, eyes still full of concern. He knew Taeyong was deliberately avoiding his question. He always knew. And the longer Mark looked at him like that with those innocent eyes of his, the more guilty Taeyong felt. The more utterly exhausted he felt as the burden of everything weighed even heavier than usual on his entire body.

Feeling obliged to fill the silence with words, he mustered up his courage again. 

"That's a story I can share at dinner tonight."

"I don't know if I want to hear it though, hyung," Mark replied quietly, tugging at Taeyong's hoodie, lost in thought. He then wrapped both of his arms around Taeyong’s waist tightly and buried his face in the warm fabric, breathing in the familiar smell a few times, and tried to memorize it forever. It gave him some comfort and he could feel Taeyong's heart beating soundly. 

He never wanted to lose Taeyong. He never wanted to let go of him again. He never wanted to take his eyes off him ever again. Recently, he felt as if he had to watch Taeyong run toward the horizon, getting smaller and smaller until he was nothing more than a miniscule black dot. Taeyong would completely vanish if he looked away for just a second. It scared him.

"You know you're not alone Taeyong-hyung, right? So don't avoid me. Talk to me whenever or even wherever you want to," he mumbled into Taeyong's hoodie and broke off. "Don't be an idiot like I am, one is already more than enough for the team," he then added. 

Taeyong sighed and another wave of deep, bottomless, exhaustion washing over him. He gently held Mark's chin with his fingers, gently lifting it up so that the latter had to look at him. "Mark. There's no reason for me to avoid you and there never will be. The only way you can upset me is by blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault."

_A lie, Taeyong. A lie, lie, lie, lie. Don’t lie to him after saying such sweet words, after wrapping him in hope and affection._

Taeyong's gaze darkened, his eyes becoming empty and absent. Noticing this, Mark grew anxious. But as quickly as it happened, it went away. _Maybe it was just my imagination?_ Mark wondered.

Suddenly, when his senses came back to him, Mark seemed to realize something very important. Shocked, he pressed his hand against his mouth and looked to the side.

"Oh my god, hyung, I _puked_ on you! Oh my god, _oh my god_."

"It's okay, it doesn't matter. Not my first time being puked on." Taeyong shrugged.

"But those shoes are your favorites!"

"I can throw them in the laundry later," he tried to placate him. The only problem was that Mark didn't want to be placated right now, not at all.

"But the colors, you drew patterns on them, it took you some time..."

"It's a good occasion to have the great Mark Lee's autograph on them, isn't it?"

"No jokes right now, hyung."

"Hey, who are you to make comments like that?"

"The great Mark Lee? Maybe not-so-great right now." Mark said, dropping his head and furrowing his eyebrows. 

"You seem to be doing better."

At that point, the atmosphere seemed to shift abruptly as the steadily climbing mood had dropped to how it was before. _Almost like losing all your progress on a game, but more frustrating and affects you way more in real life_ , Taeyong thought as he subtly clenched his jaw. He sighed when Mark grew somewhat serious again.  
"I wish I could say the same to you."

Hearing it from Mark really felt different. However, Taeyong didn’t react and opted to reach for the water bottle Doyoung had placed next to the table instead and handed it to Mark after he had removed the cap for him, ordering him to take a few gulps. The younger one did as he was told until Taeyong gave a pleased nod. "That should be enough," Taeyong took the bottle out of Mark's hand, put it aside, and gave him an encouraging pat on the thigh before carefully pulling him to his feet. 

Gently, he wiped a drop of water from Mark's chin. "Let’s get you cleaned up, Markie."

But Mark hesitated as Taeyong tried to reach for his hand, evading his grip. Instead, Mark tugged on Taeyong's sleeve, fidgeting. He whispered almost inaudibly,"I’m not sure if I want to go join the others yet."

"Do you want me to send them home ahead of you?" Taeyong offered to him as a way out.

All of a sudden Mark turned as white as before ( _and just as he was regaining some life in his skin too-_ ), with fear written in his eyes. "Oh, wait, fuck, _no_. No, I still have to ... I ... the recording is not yet ..."

Taeyong understood the conflict going on inside Mark right away, stepping in front of him and grabbing him by the arms to keep him from retreating into his mind again. 

"I'm going to ask them to call it off for today, it’ll be fine. It's better we postpone it for now. They’re not brutes, Mark, they'll understand." _Believe me, I can recognize those when I see them._ Taeyong's gaze briefly slid to the door. 

"Is it okay if I leave you alone for a moment? I need to check on Doyoung-ah and Johnny-hyung."

Mark nodded, watching Taeyong leave in silence. Somehow he could tell that Taeyong was moving more slowly than normal. More cautiously. Not as smoothly as he usually did. Not as confident. He looked so small and lonely as Mark gazed at his back. 

_This isn't my Taeyong_ , Mark thought.

Just as Taeyong's hand was about to reach for the doorknob, Mark called out his name, “Taeyong-hyung!”. Taeyong stopped and turned back to him, smiling and giving a small nod to encourage him to speak on.

Mark visibly struggled with himself, but when he looked up, his expression was determined, clear, and sincere. _It has always been like that_ , Taeyong thought to himself. _Standing next to Mark makes you feel like the biggest sinner on earth. This boy radiates just such a purehearted energy; he is a thoroughly good person._ Taeyong truly appreciated that. Being around Mark made you want to be a better person. 

"I want you to know that it's not your fault either, hyung," Mark then broke the silence. 

And it was that very moment, those few words from Mark's mouth, that almost caused Taeyong to collapse right on the spot. His knees went weak, and he forgot how to breathe. 

Of course he did _not_ break down. He was not allowed, not able to. Still functioning thankfully. Taeyong ignored the renewed trembling of his hands and plastered a fake smile on his face.

"Yes, I know. Thank you, Mark, I appreciate that. I'll be right back." His voice sounded so small and so utterly wrong, even he could notice the change.

Taeyong’s heart bled as if Mark had shoved a knife of guilt into his stomach. He wanted to believe in these words, but everything in him screamed _no_ from all those months of mental distress. He was supposed to trust Mark's words and not those of his manager. His thoughts were so irrational that it confused him. 

_You still have enough strength within you, Taeyong. You are still standing on two legs, are still breathing. Your heart is still beating in your chest, keeping you alive. It's normal that it hurts. Just don't stop. Just keep going._

And yet he was so incredibly tired.

**~**

Mark had seen through Taeyong’s artificial smile. He had already seen through it weeks ago, alongside with Taeyong's slow mental and physical deterioration. 

He would talk to the manager first thing tomorrow and beg him to allow Taeyong to participate in some of their activities again. It would make Taeyong happy when he had something to do again, he was sure of that. Maybe then things would go back to normal? He didn't know if it was going to work for sure, but he had to try at least. Ever since those events at the shopping mall, he felt that he was one of the main reasons why everything was going downhill.

_Please Taeyong. Please confide in uns. Please tell us what's wrong. Please let us into your life, like we let you into ours. It's okay to be weak sometimes, did you forget you were the one who told us? You once said that every worry is like a needle piercing your heart and if you don't talk about it, they’ll stay there in your heart, hurting all the time. I don't know what caused it but this is what has happened to you. You’ve changed and it hurts to see, it hurts to see your heart ache so much, to see it silently cry out for help. It wants to be cured but your mind won’t allow it to._

_I’m not dumb, Taeyong. I’m not too young to understand. I am not blind to the obvious.  
Talk to me. Talk to me like you used to.  
I miss you.  
We miss you.  
Come back to us.  
Don’t leave.  
Don't make my fears reality.  
Please be happy again._

Taeyong needed help against whatever it was that he had been fighting for so long. 

They had to save Taeyong from himself before it was too late.


	8. among all the people surrounding me.

###### POV: Baekhyun

Today, Byun Baekhyun was especially pleased with himself and the world as he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car engine. It was quiet, with only the keys and the countless pendants on the keychain jingling, the pendants being gifts from their fans from the time of their debut: a small pink bunny with a wreath of flowers, a framed small photo of EXO with a sweet message, a little heart with _saranghae_ written on it and several more - swinging back and forth. They were already frayed and dirty, and the color was fading, but Baekhyun couldn't bring himself to throw them away. Not when they were so cute and full of memories; he was a soft little boy with a soft little heart. 

Baekhyun carried on humming the warm melody even when the radio turned off. He had been really surprised when Kyungsoo's voice had suddenly emerged from the speakers. It was an old song, long forgotten by many, but to him all the more charming and delightful. Even after all these years, Baekhyun felt himself grow a few inches taller with pride each time one of their songs was played in public, and wanted to shout in the streets: _Listen carefully dear people, this is Byun Baekhyun, the great grand master of singing!_

They had given everything. From their blood, sweat and tears to their teenage years; training hard and working even harder after debut. Moments like these were their reward. Baekhyun cherished every one of them and kept them carefully treasured in his heart. They had made it, and he was happy.

With practiced ease, he casually fixed his hair quickly, glanced briefly in the rearview mirror and huffed at a particularly large red pimple on his forehead, - his third mystical eye, as Jongin had called it earlier - leaning over to the passenger seat while unbuckling his seatbelt.

His lips spread into a smile as he found the passenger buckled the other front seat in the form of rows of full cups of coffee in a cardboard holder as well as a giant paper bag stuffed with doughnuts. His whole car smelled heavenly and his nose felt like it was floating on a cloud of cotton candy. The scents of honey, chocolate, raspberries, roasted nuts, peanut butter and strawberries filled the car’s insides. If he hadn't been eaten a large slice of cake with Jongin in their favorite coffee place an hour ago, he would have already munched shamelessly on a treat or two.

He grabbed the baked goods and drinks and somehow managed to balance them in his arms, performing an elegant turn as one of the cups tilted dangerously to one side, the book Taemin had lent him dropping from his bag as he did so.

He looked down. Actually, it wasn't meant for himself, he wanted to give it to Taeyong. Baekhyun didn't know much about what was going on with NCT right now, but he was well aware that something _not-so-good_ was happening. Baekhyun had heard many unsavoury rumours about them: varying from special treatment from the CEO to the leader being put on hiatus. True or not, he knew the younger man would be in dire need of distraction at the moment. He really hoped that Taeyong would like it and Taemin had good taste, so no doubt was really needed.

Muttering incomprehensible words under his breath, he squatted down, placed the coffee and donut bag on his thighs, and tucked the book back into his bag. He then checked his phone and felt a small twinge of disappointment when no new message was displayed to him. He pouted for a second as neither Mark, nor Johnny, nor Taeyong had replied.  
_How dare these guys just ignore their awesome hyung_ , he quipped to himself in his mind. Still, his thumb moved on screen and the chats popped open, just to make sure. Baekhyun read the last messages, for what must have been the tenth time in the last hour.

**Mark me in your heart <3**

_Hey hyuuuuung, we have recording today and Johnny-hyung invited us all to dinner afterwards. Come by if you feel like it and have time! We would all be really happy to meet you c:_

_And I'd like to talk to you about something, hyung._

Baekhyun smiled and chuckled softly. So cheerful, this boy. Adorable.

**Baekhyun**

_Markiee today is your lucky day, I'm free tonight and I honor you with my company. I'll come right over and send you some mental support! And I'll bring some brain food ~ I never say no to my sweetheart Johnny-ah taking us out for dinner. Fightiiiiing Mark-ah ~_

_Sure, whatever you wanna talk about, I’m here for you!_

[unread]

-

**Johnny**

_Yeah, recording today, but I'm looking forward to it, it's going to be fun. Have a nice afternoon with Jongin-hyung, say hello to him for me._

**Baekhyun**

_Johnny-ah, here's one more hungry mouth for you to feed today ~ see you later <3 a big thanks to Mark-ah._

[read]

-

**Taeyongie**

_( five days ago)_

_Thanks for sharing this hyung, I'll call you later. Busy right now._

**Baekhyun**

_Taeyongieee-ah ~ I'll be by later to shower you guys with some praise for how great you're all doing. I have something I want to give you ~ I'm looking forward to it._

[unread]

-

It was Mark's last sentence that had made Baekhyun _slightly_ suspicious. Mark sounded very casual, he always did, but Baekhyun sensed that there was something more serious behind it. He hadn't thought twice and had postponed his plans with Taemin. When Baekhyun had told his bandmate the reason on the phone, he'd immediately heard concern in Taemin's voice as well, and the latter had asked him to please give him another call if he or Mark needed his help. Taemin had learned from the past and they both knew how much pressure weighed on the small shoulders of the youngest SuperM member.

 _They're probably just busy right now_ , he thought, shrugging his shoulders and putting his cell phone back in his pocket, shivering as the autumn wind tousled his hair. It was so damaged and bleached to death that it stuck out in all directions like the needles of a cactus; Baekhyun wouldn't be all that surprised if he woke up the next morning with all his hair fallen out and bald head. He humphed and looked up at the dark sky above, slowly got up and strolled to the entrance of the multi-story building in which the recording studio was located upstairs. What time was it now? Half past six? 

A joyful, unstoppable smile played around his lips and his heart started beating faster when he thought about the fact that he was about to see his much-loved dongsaengs in just a few minutes. 

Fortunately, his own schedule was not too crowded as the next set of schedules for SuperM wouldn't start for another two weeks, and until then he could recover a bit and finally had time for friends and hobbies. This morning he had even called his mother and listened to her lively chatter for two hours, listened to her talk about how she was going to replant the garden next summer, how her neighbor with the perm had a gentleman caller, even though she was over seventy, - how scandalous, but let people love at any age, she said - how the couple one floor below was expecting twins and she was so excited to welcome the babies into this world, and that his father had once again walked through the whole house without taking off his dirty shoes first. 

Baekhyun had listened to her, smiling, nodding, occasionally making approving sounds. He loved this kind of normality. He had felt like the little ten-year-old Baekhyun from back in the day, whose face had not yet been plastered on posters all over the world. When his world was still a small one and had stretched no further than beyond the next street block, no further than the 7-Eleven on the corner next to the playground where he used to meet up with his friends, chewing gum, eating ice cream in the summer and playing stupid games he was most likely to lose. 

Still, he didn't wish for the old days to return. Baekhyun was proud of who he was and all he had achieved. He liked his hectic, eventful life with all its ups and downs. Today was no exception.

Light-footed, he climbed the first steps of the stairs leading to the entrance door, when it abruptly swung open, so violently and so angrily that it crashed against the wall with a loud bang. Baekhyun winced, squinted one eye and froze. In the next moment, a familiar face rushed past him and Baekhyun could see an imaginary trail of flames the man was leaving in his wake. 

The other guy seemed to be so heated that he didn't recognize it was actually Baekhyun standing there and not some stranger, because it was all but polite to just ignore his hyung.  
Baekhyun blinked in confusion, lips slightly parted, as he spun around on the stairs watching the young man leave because _holy shit, this boy was on fire._

"Y-Yuta-yah?" His mind thankfully started functioning again. 

It was then that he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder, as light as a feather. Baekhyun looked up and found himself face to face with Jungwoo. Immediately he smiled at the younger one, but when he noticed how Jungwoo had to literally force the corners of his mouth up to return the greeting, his smile faded and was replaced by a serious expression of concern. Baekhyun raised his arm and used the donut bag to point in the direction where Yuta had disappeared.

"Everything alright with you guys? Any trouble?" he asked calmly, and with his voice firm before Jungwoo had the chance to say anything, and searched Jungwoo's eyes for answers. Jungwoo stayed silent, evident that he did not know what to say or what he was allowed to say at all. But that alone was enough of an answer for Baekhyun and his heart sank a little in his chest.

At that moment, more NCT 127 members emerged from the building, but as Baekhyun counted, he noticed that half were missing.

"Jungwoo-yah?" he inquired in a soft voice, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Baekhyun-hyung. You're here because Mark-ah texted you, right?" He hesitated. "I ... I think it would be better if you just leave now, it's-..."

Just then, their manager arrived in his black van, honked the horn twice, and called out to them through the rolled-down window to hurry up. Jungwoo's head snapped up at the command and was visibly relieved that he now had a good excuse to escape Baekhyun's questions. 

"Sorry, hyung. We have to go," he muttered, and the warmth on Baekhyun's shoulder was gone as Junwoo quickly joined the other members, who were already trotting down the stairs with distant, introspective looks on their faces. Something about this whole scene made Baekhyun feel melancholy and his worries grew with each passing minute. He would do anything but turn back now. 

Frowning, he watched the car doors close with a loud slam and stood on the stairs for a moment, indecisive, when he remembered that he still had the bag of donuts and the coffee. With quick steps he hurried to the van to hand it over to them, but the manager had already stepped on the gas and the van took off, stirring up a cloud of dust that momentarily covered Baekhyun's silhouette. He held his arm in front of his face, coughing, lowered it again and closed his eyes. Sighed. _Well, so much for that._

Baekhyun was frantically trying to not read too much into this situation yet - which wasn't very easy when you had been working in this industry for so long and had already faced as damn many negative experiences as he had, but he was trying, Byun Baekhyun was of optimistic nature after all - as he made his way inside the building to the elevator and impatiently pressed the button several times with his pinky finger. He wasn't mad or angry that they had turned him down like that, no, rather he was concerned and worried. 

After what felt like an eternity, relief came with the familiar pling as the elevator doors opened. With the large bag in his arms that somewhat blocked his view, he was about to step into the elevator when someone bumped hard into his shoulder, shoving him out of the way. Taken by surprise, Baekhyun stumbled and lost his balance, which led to the coffee falling out of his arms and onto the floor, closely followed by the doughnut bag. He let out a muffled gasp as the aromatic scent of coffee spread throughout the lobby - no wonder, when there was a whole deluge of coffee arriving - and to top it all off, it soaked the donut bag. 

Too caught off guard to curse, Baekhyun stared for what seemed like a heartbeat at the mess he had made before whirling around to the man. It wasn't entirely clear who was to blame for this dilemma. But this rude fellow had simply strutted past him without saying a word. Good manners were important. 

"Excuse me!" called Baekhyun and the man actually stopped in the doorway, something that kind of surprised Baekhyun. But the look that pierced him a second later, so cold, so hard, so thoroughly unfriendly, made him retreat a few steps, and he felt his chest tighten as oddly enough, he got a little scared.  
But wait - didn't he actually know this man? Baekhyun could bet that he had seen him before in the SM building. 

"What is it?" growled the bear of a man, casting an impatient glance at his watch.

"Well, I… my, my _coffee_..." Baekhyun began to speak, but trailed off, for somehow his vocabulary seemed to have been reduced to these four words. In reply, the man only emitted an annoyed hiss and departed. 

Baekhyun took a moment to collect himself, took a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders. Today was still a good day, _no_ , this was not a bad omen, just unfortunate coincidences, _yes_ , everything could be explained in a logical way.

He then looked at the floor again, squatting down and trying to save the donut bag somehow, which he failed at, and was rummaging in his pocket looking for tissues - he would have needed a whole army of them to wipe all the liquid off the floor, but his options were limited - when he heard someone in his back, saying his name.

"Baekhyun-ssi?"

His eyebrows furrowed in surprise, and he looked up from his spot where he was crouched on the floor in the pool of coffee over his shoulder at the female voice. He could tell they knew each other, but he couldn't immediately identify her.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

Upon seeing the obvious confusion on his face, the young woman flashed a friendly smile and tucked her long black hair behind her slightly protruding ears.

"Oh, sorry! We haven't seen each other in so long, I must have changed quite a bit. Dong Youngmi!" She hastily bowed and gave a soft laugh. Baekhyun's lips formed a silent 'o' as he returned her smile moments later and rose to his feet, knees cracking in protest at the abrupt movement. 

"The little Dong Youngmi! No, no I still remember you very well. Your cookies back then had a legendary reputation."

"You mean they were legendarily feared."

"You shouldn't have mistaken salt for sugar that one time."

"And there went all that hard-won trust..."

"Jongin-ah recovered from his trauma after a good week."

"But I had to put up with his disapproving puppy dog eyes for a good month. It was as if I had betrayed him."

"Excuse me for saying so, but in a way you did." Baekhyun laughed softly remembering this old memory. "But tell me, how have you been? And most importantly, what are you doing here? How long has it been now, five years?" he asked kindly, and her shoulders relaxed a little. 

"Five years, two months and ..." she glanced at her watch "...ten days."  
Baekhyun chuckled and eyed her fleetingly, so she wasn't uncomfortable. Thinking, he placed two fingers on his chin and tilted his head.

"Why does it feel like you're a young brave manager now?"

She returned him an appreciative smile. "Your intuition is as sharp as ever, Baekhyun-ssi. Well, maybe that's because I am!"

She proudly handed him her business card with both hands. Baekhyun accepted it with a small thank you and read the small words quickly.

"So, assistant manager it is. I'm very happy for you, congratulations." 

"Thank you." Her eyes formed into friendly crescents and again she bowed to him so that her hair slid down her face. Hastily she swept it out of her eyes, smiling widely. 

Baekhyun then leaned in a little closer, put a hand near his mouth, mischievously glancing around as if he had a secret message to deliver. 

"So, are you allowed to tell me which boys or girls you've taken under your wing?" he whispered, his eyes lighting up. 

She copied him, looked around before replying in an equally whispery manner: "Lying is pointless, you would have found out sooner or later. I am the successor to the NCT 127 assistant manager."

"Oh, oh _wow_. Now that's an announcement." Baekhyun let out an appreciative whistle. "But I'm glad it's you." While his mind was still processing all this info, the next moment he was overwhelmed by so many questions that he didn't know which one to ask first.

_Why is everyone pulling such a long face? Where are the other boys? What do you know? How can I help?_

"I will work hard to support the boys to the best of my ability!" Dong Youngmi vowed.

"They're a bit of a chaos, but they're a wonderful, talented, lovable bunch of chaos."

"So were you guys back then. And I have a sneaking feeling you still are, Baekhyun-ssi."

"Caught." 

Baekhyun knew he should show more interest in her as a person, but their friendship back then hadn't been very close, and for the past few years she had been out of the picture without a sound. And damn it, he was really worried right now, and here was still this mess he had to take care of, when all he wanted to do was get to the others as quickly as possible and make sure everyone was okay, and that they-

"Baekhyun-ssi? Are you all right?" Dong Youngmi glanced at him with a frown as he drifted off in thought.

He sighed and shook his head, his hair bouncing in sync with the movement. "I'm a little worried right now to be honest. I just saw Yuta, Jungwoo, and some of the other guys, and something's wrong, isn't it? I don't want to pressure you for an answer but I'd really appreciate it if you could tell me what's going on."

When a slightly unhappy smile appeared on her lips, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach only grew tighter. 

"There were a few ... complications. But I think it would be better if they told you in person. Go talk to them, they can use your support. In the meantime, I'll take care of the little accident here, I'll just call the building's cleaning service."

Baekhyun wanted to object, but she had already pulled out her phone and dialed a number in a matter of seconds. Only a blink of an eye later, she was already talking to someone and with a clear gesture and a nice smile, she let him know that it was okay, that she had everything under control and that he should leave. 

"I'll return the favor."

Her smile widened a touch, she nodded, and turned her back to him.

The next moment, Baekhyun was already inside the elevator, pressing the button, waiting, waiting, waiting. Died a small inner death of impatience. Fretted who he had to kick in the butt, for the way that one of the guys had probably collapsed, completely overworked. Because that was just his obvious assumption, which also mostly came true in 90% of the cases. That was his seventh sense. The sacred Baekhyun intuition that no one could escape. 

His worry was now mixed with anger, which lit a small fire in his chest and he crossed his arms, impatiently tapping his finger against his bicep, until the elevator doors finally parted and he rushed out like a small, 1.74m tall whirlwind.

The first two staff members, whom he nonchalantly stepped into the way and asked for the whereabouts of the NCT 127 members who had stayed behind, gave him quite the polite cold shoulder. But by the way they avoided his gaze and wrung their hands, he knew they were hiding something from him.  
So he went from person to person, getting more restless by the minute, and his palms already quite cold and clammy, when _finally someone_ directed him in the direction of the secluded restrooms.  
He would have liked to kiss this man's hand in gratitude, but his legs had already started moving. So fast that he tripped over his own feet at one point - his pride as a dancer tossed aside - he hurried down the corridor, turned a corner and stopped. 

Baekhyun’s chest rose and fell rapidly under his heavy breaths, and he felt his shoulders tensing up when his gaze immediately fell on Johnny. 

Johnny stared blankly at the floor with head sunk down, back leaning heavily against the wall as if he wanted to melt into it, and arms folded in front of his chest. His long shadow fell across the floor, almost reaching Baekhyun's feet. Through a window to their left, the dim light from the opposite buildings sparsely illuminated this side corridor. The world outside was now completely wrapped in darkness. 

A ray of light fell on Johnny's bleached blond hair, giving it a spectral glow before his head drooped down further, the long strands slipping forward to hide his face as he suddenly winced. When his head snapped up, he looked around in confusion and the next second, he was rubbing his eyes before shaking his head to force himself to stay awake. The poor guy looked like a gentle breeze would be enough to knock him over. 

"Johnny-ah?" Baekhyun asked into the heavy silence.

Johnny slowly turned his head toward him, obviously more than surprised to meet him here. Nevertheless, a weak little smile appeared on his lips.

"Baekhyun-hyung? What ... oh, right. Mark-ah invited you to dinner, sorry, I totally forgot. Still, it's good to see you." Johnny heaved a heavy sigh and made an effort to give him a genuine smile. Baekhyun frowned as he stepped up to him and examined his friend thoroughly. 

If one could describe fatigue, he would only need two words: Johnny Suh. The dark shadows under his soft, brown eyes made him look older than he was, more tired than a twenty-five-year-old man should be. In contrast, his eyes looked so young, and so overwhelmed that Baekhyun felt the need to immediately pull him into his arms and comfort him.

Baekhyun stepped right in front of him, placed a hand on the back of Johnny's neck, and pulled him close until Johnny's forehead dropped exhaustedly onto his shoulder. He felt Johnny take a deep breath and felt his regular, strong heartbeat now that they were standing so close, and saw him shut his eyes before pulling away from him. Their eyes locked; calm, collected, and they remained silent for a moment. 

"Thank you, hyung. But this isn't about me," Johnny mumbled, voice strained and raspy.

Baekhyun sighed, rested a hand loosely on Johnny's shoulder. He wanted to support the taller one, even if it was only through light physical contact. 

"Here I am, dropping in because Mark-ah was tempting me with food, and as I arrive, an angry Yuta storms past me, the others all upset, and I ..." He paused for a moment. "Are they in there?" He gestured with his head toward the restroom door. "Who is it this time?" Johnny followed his gaze, looking over his shoulder. "Taeyongie again? Did he push himself too hard and ..."

"Mark-ah had a panic attack," Johnny cut him off, straightened up and massaged his tense neck. 

_No, not again_. "Wasn't the last one barely two weeks ago?"

Johnny shook his head, but this time the fatigue on his face was more than mere tiredness caused by lack of sleep. 

"It was all such a mess. Mark-ah was a mess, the others were a mess, I was a mess. I know that I, as one of the older ones should have held it together, but instead I just considered my own selfish feelings." Johnny sighed. "I'm so disappointed in myself and I can't blame it all on the fact that we're exhausted, that's no justification." He broke off. "I want to help them, but how can I help if I don't know what's making them so sick in the first place? Of course I can see the things that are obvious, but often I feel like suddenly everyone has their own secrets. Taeyong has been comforting me with half-truths for weeks, we can hardly have normal conversations." Johnny pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes and shakily exhaled for a long moment before lowering them back off his face. He smiled a sad smile. "I'm sorry, that's certainly not the welcome you imagined."

"Johnny-ah. Calm down," Baekhyun reassured him.

"I'm calm," Johnny retorted.

"On the outside, maybe, but on the inside, it's a whole different story."

As if Johnny had read Baekhyun's thoughts from the latter's eyes, he said: "I can't even tell if those are my real feelings. We both know how emotional and irritable you can get when you barely get four hours of sleep a night."

"And that's the case with you?"

"It is what our job and life entails."

"You're worried, Johnny-ah. I know you always keep an eye on everyone, and I also know you're the first to notice when something's wrong."

"And yet they don't confide in me. I seem to have failed." His smile became even a touch sadder. "It's not their fault. I understand if there are things they don't want to share with me. I'd just be happy if they did anyway."

"You're a great friend, Johnny. The thought that someone is always there to listen is vital, you're their pillar of support. Believe me, they've personally assured me of that many, many times. In fact, so many times that I'm actually a little envious of how _great_ their hyung is. I wish they would talk about me that way too, but I guess we're not there yet in our relationship."

Johnny chuckled softly. "They love you a lot, hyung."

"But they love _you_ a tad more."

"But just a tad."

"A _huge_ little tad."

"First of all, you have to grow ten centimeters."

"I've heard Taeil-ssi is a specialist in how to scale up a bit."

"There are secret bets on where he hides his high heels."

"Forget I ever brought that topic up."

"I'll tell him you've expressed your deepest interest."

Baekhyun smiled. "So, how’s Mark-ah?"

"He's very exhausted and tired, it's taken a toll on him, but he's as brave as ever." Johnny began to twirl the silver ring on his right index finger. Taeyong's gift for his twenty-third birthday. "But he calmed down when Taeyong arrived."

That made Baekhyun feel puzzled. " _... when Taeyong arrived?" Where had he been before that?_

"It's a real mess, isn't it?" Baekhyun asked instead. "But it's the situation we should blame, not ourselves." 

Baekhyun laid a hand on Johnny's, which then eased off the ring. "So, we just wait until they're done in there?"

"That's what we do."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Not that I have another one up my sleeve. Jaehyun-ah is talking to the producer right now and sorting everything out."

"Does he need help?"

"He should be back in a minute."

"Okay." Baekhyun agreed. "Let's take you all home for now so you can rest a little. I've got my car right here, I'll drive you back to your dorm and personally tuck you into bed. Lullaby included."

"I'd like to say you don't have to do that, but I'd really appreciate it."

"I want you guys home safe, so no backtalk, Mr. Suh."

Johnny smiled and raised his gaze, lazily pretending to salute. "No backtalk, Sir Byun Baekhyun."

Nevertheless, Baekhyun inconspicuously eyed Johnny out of the corner of his eye and frowned again. He probably wouldn't stop doing that anytime soon. 

Then he started nagging again, "Are you getting enough to eat? Do you want me to cook something later?"

"Three meals a day. And no, you don't have to, I told the others to order takeout."

"Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Hyung, I'm okay. I don't need any special treatment, please. It's those two in there who are-."

"Johnny." Baekhyun shot him a look. "It doesn't hurt any less, it's not any less exhausting, to watch helplessly as the people who mean the most to you are miserable. One tends to forget and neglect oneself in the process. I have witnessed this too many times and I recognize it when someone does - and _you're_ doing it right now. If you want to be there for them, you must also take care of your own health. Everyone needs a little special treatment from time to time, accept it, will you? I need someone to baby right now."

Johnny bit his lower lip, as if conflicted with his own feelings, and turned his profile to Baekhyun.  
Was he... _sulking_ a little?

"I just want everyone to be okay," it burst out of him. "That everyone is full, rested, satisfied and happy. That they can joke around, laugh. Having fun and enjoying themselves being on stage and dancing and singing and just doing what they love." He paused. "I know that I’m simple-minded and naive in my wishes. But that is all I want for my family."

Baekhyun said nothing at first, just leaned against the wall next to Johnny so that their shoulders touched.

"I can't imagine anything more beautiful than knowing that someone wants me to be happy with all their heart," Baekhyun then said and gave a warm smile. "I'm glad they have you. You don't give yourself enough credit."

Johnny did not answer, but Baekhyun hadn’t expected an answer either. In fact, he didn't ask any more questions and joined Johnny in his silence, gazing out through the small window on the opposite wall and at the dull cement buildings that were home to so many different people. Countless strangers with countless stories, problems, joys, experiences. On stage, Baekhyun felt very powerful, but at such moments he felt very small. Insignificant in the big world. Their current little universe was right here, right next to this restroom, in front of which he was trying to ease Johnny's worries by simply existing alongside his friend.


	9. these empty sounds and endless stories.

###### POV: Baekhyun 

Taeyong walked out of the restroom, firmly holding onto Mark's hand, followed by Doyoung, and all the questions swirling around in Baekhyun's head were silenced right on the spot. These guys were _beyond_ tired. Everything about them screamed _exhaustion_ and that it would be the best to send them on a long vacation to Hawaii right away, but it was wishful thinking. Nevertheless, he would hire a private jet for them to make the impossible, possible. 

Baekhyun furrowed his brow in deep concern but smiled gently as Taeyong froze upon seeing his older bandmate. Taeyong's eyes grew wide and the expression on his face did not please Baekhyun at all. Taeyong seemed to be afraid, or even scared, meeting him here. _But of what? And why? Or was he just stressed out because of Mark?_

But Baekhyun’s mind whispered that he would open Pandora's box if he were to ask any serious questions. So he didn't, and instead explained to Taeyong why he was here, speaking calmly and reassuringly to Mark as they made their way to the exit where Jaehyun joined them. No one complained when Baekhyun told them he would give them all a ride back home, since now he probably had a night off as well. 

He tried to joke around a bit and lighten the mood, but upon noticing that no one really had the strength to react or respond to what he was saying, Baekhyun switched strategies and started talking about trivial things so that they wouldn't be uncomfortable with the silence, but also so that no one would have to listen to him if they didn't want to. Baekhyun was a true master of monologues and he didn't expect any answers. As long as it would be of help, it was fine.

Somehow they all managed to squeeze into his car, Johnny sitting in the middle. Soon Mark's head dropped on his left shoulder, Taeyong's head on his right, and in his lap lay the hands of the two, their fingers entwined. Taeyong kept nodding off, but stubbornly refused to sleep unless Mark had fallen asleep first, and kept checking on the younger one every few seconds.  
Jaehyun would just stare out the window with an absent gaze, and Baekhyun wasn't sure if the latter was even blinking. At the same time, Doyoung kept thinking so loudly that Baekhyun could hear his worries without Doyoung voicing them aloud. Their miserable little party was far from happy and it was a very silent ride back to the dorms. 

Having confirmed that the other members at the dorm indeed had gotten some food and were composed enough to take care of their friends, Baekhyun took his leave, they all needed some time to themselves. But before he left, he approached Mark and promised him that he would call him tomorrow. For one thing, he wanted to make sure that the younger man was all right, and for another, to know if Mark still needed and wanted to talk about what had been bothering him. 

After getting into his car he then decided to give Chanyeol a call. There was something he needed to know and he couldn’t wait until tomorrow. 

-

“Baekhyun, I know that tone. What are you planning?” Chanyeol greeted him.

“Nothing,” Baekhyun said. “There’s just a few things I want to poke my nose into before things go crazy here.”

He heard Chanyeol laugh softly. "So, what do you want to know? Why this sudden call?"

Baehyung sighed. "Do you remember Dong Youngmi? She was a trainee five years ago. Very talented, everyone wondered why she suddenly disappeared. The guys had bet on her debuting first."

Brief, hesitant silence. "Yeah, I remember her." 

More silence followed. 

"Is that all? _I_ remember _you_ being more eloquent, my friend."

"No, no, I was just thinking, there was ....” Chanyeol took a deep breath “... there were some rumors at the time. I don't know if there's any truth to them, but, you know. People talk. It was just strange, I had almost forgotten about it by now. Thanks for making me remember that."

Baekhyun snorted softly. "What, really? I had no idea, why am I hearing about this for the first time?"

"Well, weren't you occupied with other important things at the time? " countered Chanyeol "I recall a certain pretty lady..."

"Whatever, don't reopen old wounds." Baehyung drawled with a somewhat sad smile. Ah, yeah, she had been a lovely young lady. Sometimes he still missed her, but his life as it was right now did not allow love. Maybe she had already started a family? He knew he shouldn’t think about things like that as it only made him unnecessarily sad. 

Baekhyun's voice turned serious again. "So, what do you know?"

"Hum, let me think … her record wasn't exactly clean. The company decided keeping her was too risky. I guess talent can't make up for your past, huh?" began Chanyeol.

Baekhyun's hand wandered absentmindedly over the soft leather of the steering wheel. _Interesting_. "Do you happen to know more about it?"

"I really don't know if we should be sticking our noses in there. And anyway - why do you ask? Why are you suddenly so interested in her?" Chanyeol questioned.

He leaned back in his seat and ran his hand through his hair. "I met her today, actually. She introduced herself to me as the new assistant manager of NCT127," Baekhyun revealed in one breath. He could hear Chanyeol taking a sharp inhale through his nose through the phone. 

"What, but ... _how?_ " his friend finally asked. 

Baekhyun nodded in agreement, even if only he could see it. "That's exactly what I was wondering about myself."

"Maybe she has good contacts?"

"But to give up her dream as an idol and then suddenly be hired as an assistant manager? I mean, she wasn't cleared of the sins of her past during those past five years, was she?" 

"She'll probably never be cleared of that in her lifetime."

"Why?" Baekhyun frowned.

"So you really want to know, huh? I'm not so sure if I'm doing us any favors by telling you more."

"Chanyeol, please. Don't bait me only to drop me soon after. I have a feeling it's important. I want to know what kind of woman the guys and I are dealing with."

Chanyeol hesitated, but finally sighed. "All right, if you insist."

"Yes, I insist." He affirmed.

"Okay, listen.” Chanyeol paused for a second, cleared his throat. “Back then, someone did some research and discovered that her father wasn't just a nobody. Not at all. It even goes back to the time when SM was founded." 

"Continue."

"There was this one band at the time that was managed by the late father of the current CEO. They were five young men, all very talented and also very successful with their music, but they didn't last very long. Two years after their debut, they disbanded. And the official reasons why they did so were ... more than a little sketchy," Chanyeol explained.

Baekhyun straightened up, his heart beginning to beat a little faster. "Let me guess, Dong Youngmi's father was one of those band members?"

"Exactly."

Baekhyun gnawed on his lower lip, looking out the window and tried to process all this information. "That's a big deal indeed. Did they disband because of a serious fight with the company? Is the company holding some kind of grudge towards them? Or what's the reason they kicked Dong Youngmi out?" he speculated.

"No, I don’t know, but he ...her father died shortly after they disbanded. Suicide, according to the police. I guess they just didn't want to dig that topic up again. There were some strange theories about his death going around and they were not exactly in the company's favor."

Baekhyun suddenly became hot and cold all over, a shiver ran down his spine and his teeth let go of his lip. He looked up. Sitting here alone in his car at night had suddenly become a _bit_ scary and maybe not the greatest idea of the day. He reached out and locked the doors. 

"That's all I know," Chanyeol added after they had gone silent for a few minutes.

"It just makes the whole thing even more mysterious." Baekhyun sighed. "But thanks for telling me."

"I don't know, Baek ... this is all a bit odd, I agree, but you shouldn't worry too much about it."

"You know that worrying is one of my favorite hobbies." Baekhyun played with the key pendants which jingled softly in response and stared down at his slender fingers. 

"I'm sure SM knows what they're doing. We should have a little faith in them from time to time."

"Hm ... maybe, maybe not," Baekhyun mumbled.

"Baek." 

"Okay, okay, yeah, I'll try. Better safe, than sorry, right?" He could hear Chanyeol sighing in defeat, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Too many unsolved questions were racing through his mind and he didn’t know where to start or even stop thinking about what his friend had told him right now. It was a heavy story. 

_Why go to SM and thus always be reminded of the death of one's father?_ That made no sense and kind, polite Youngmi didn't seem so hardened to him that she would be unaffected.

Baekhyun wanted to know the answer to that but at the same time, he knew that he might be crossing a line if he dug deeper. For the time being, he decided to lay low, observe, wait and see how things would turn out. 

With an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Baekhyun drove through the midnight streets of Seoul to his apartment. Once there, he ordered himself some takeout and took a quick shower. But his thoughts were still circling around the same topic and it wouldn't let him go.

Stepping into the kitchen, he made a cup of coffee, then leaned against the table as he used a towel to help dry his wet hair and scrolled through his phone. After a moment of uncertainty, he bit his lower lip and then typed something into the search box. 

Immediately, countless articles on the matter were displayed to him and he clicked on the very first. When his gaze fell on the photo, his eyes grew wide and he froze completely. At first he didn't know what had taken him so aback, but as he looked at the faces of the young men who were beaming at the camera a little closer, it came to him that he actually recognized one of them. It was a younger and happier version, but there was no doubt about it.

Baekhyun read the caption, and once again looked at the men's faces. Because next to the man who was said to be Dong Youngmi's late father, Gil Kangdae's younger self had an arm wrapped around the man's shoulder. Baekhyun’s whole body suddenly felt icy cold. What was the meaning of all this? 

He rubbed his hand over his face wearily and continued reading. Sure enough, it mentioned that Gil Kangdae had been one of the band members which was then followed some superficial information about the suicide after. Sighing, Baekhyun decided that he had learned enough for the time being, locking his phone and leaning back onto the counter. 

Most likely, it wasn't anything to worry about. They must have known each other, and Gil Kangdae had used his contacts to get her a job. All quite logical. And yet Baekhyun had the feeling that the whole thing was anything but logical. But NCT 127 had other problems to deal with right now. He sighed again. First, he would wait and see. 

Then his phone buzzed and he glanced at the display. A short message from Johnny that said Taeyong and Mark were well-fed and peacefully unconscious in Taeyong's bed, which brought a smile to Baekhyun's face. He replied to Johnny quickly before deciding that he should stop thinking about the whole thing. Tomorrow was a new day. Tomorrow he could go on thinking and find a more satisfying solution.

With that in mind, he went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually serves the purpose of finally push the plot somewhat forward. I hope you liked it. The next one will be a bit more emotional.


	10. I promised myself

###### POV: Taeyong 

While Baekhyun was laying alone in his bed, brooding over the day despite his good intentions not to, the silence with Taeyong and Mark was a different one.

They were in Taeyong's bed, facing each other, fingers intertwined in the small space between them. A warm touch that drove away their loneliness, kept away the evil spirits that loomed in the shadows after the sun set.

 _It's been a while_ , Taeyong thought. Normally, Mark preferred sleeping without another member sandwiching him. That he tolerated it today and sought skinship was a sign of how incredibly exhausted he must be. Even though the members of NCT were getting older - deep down they were still the young boys who had been thrown into the entertainment business, unprepared and naïve, and had to adapt to a new, fast-paced world. They’d lost a big part of their youth along the way.

Taeyong cracked his eyes open and noticed the silver moonlight that fell into the room through the window, covering their bodies in a spectral mist. They breathed calmly, steadily; a stark contrast to their situation just a few hours ago. A small part of Taeyong doubted whether it had even happened at all, but the memories were too fresh, slowly bleeding at the edges of the wounds Mark’s breakdown had caused; open cuts and bruises that haven’t yet scabbed over in order to heal. It felt too raw to be anything but reality.

Sighing, his gaze softened as he watched Mark's sleeping face. SM asks so much of the young boy. It was a miracle that Mark held up so well, but _well_ was not the right term after all. Not after today.

A lash had fallen onto Mark's cheek and Taeyong untangled his hand from Mark's, swiping it away with his thumb. The younger boy stirred in the sheets and blinked his eyes open, drowsily. 

"You’re safe, sleep some more," Taeyong whispered, and his fingers ran soothingly through Mark's hair. "You did good. You deserve your rest." 

Mark watched him, his expression inscrutable - a look Taeyong didn't get to see from him very often, only when Mark scolded him if he had been too absorbed in his work and had lost track of time. 

"Hyung." Mark's voice was still hoarse and strained, his eyes red and puffy from the tears he had shed. "Where are we?"

"On my bed."

Mark's lips formed a small and silent _O_ and Taeyong's heart tightened at the sight, at how vulnerable and lost Mark looked right now. He wanted to protect the sweet young boy next to him, now and in the future.

"Hyung?" 

"Hmm?"

"I'm scared," Mark whispered. His voice sounded small and fragile, like fine porcelain that already had a crack. 

Taeyong's hand in the younger one's hair faltered.

"What do you mean?" he asked, tracing the moonlight on Mark's cheeks with his fingers.

"Something is going to change soon." Mark took Taeyong’s hand, turned it, and caressed the palm with his thumb; looked up at him. "And I can't do anything to stop it."

"Nothing will change." Taeyong replied too hastily before realizing his mistake and he exhaled, shakily. His jaw set as Mark's eyes quivered and confronted Taeyong with his own reflection.

 _Right._ He had _everything. Under. Control._

"You're terrified of something," Mark spoke up, "but you refuse to tell us what it is." 

Taeyong's heart skipped a beat - and then pounded furiously. 

He bit hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to take steady breaths so Mark didn't see how much his words had just hurt him, had stripped him of his protective layers. _Had hit right in the bull's eye._

"I can hear your heart beating," Mark murmured under his breath, a touch of sadness in his voice. The reaction of Taeyong’s body had only confirmed his fears, and Taeyong grew anxious, wanting to flee, to avoid this confrontation with the truth. He felt completely exposed with Mark’s dark, clear eyes observing him.

Mark continued, "I don't want you to be afraid of anything in this whole wide world." He took a deep breath. "So let me be there for you when you need someone." 

Frustrated, Mark gnawed on his lower lip, meeting Taeyong's gaze. "Promise me you'll at least talk to Johnny. He’ll never admit it, but it’s getting to him. He's helpless and I'm worried about you two."

Taeyong forced one thin-lipped smile and wrapped his arms around Mark, pulling him closer until soft hair tickled his jaw. "Okay, okay. I promise," he assured as Mark's fingers traced down his back and clutched tightly on the soft fabric of his shirt, scared to let go of his brother.

"You’re a great Hyung, Taeyong," Mark whispered, "and an even better leader. You’re taking such good care of us. I know it's not easy and I know you give your all to live up to your position." Mark looked up and his long eyelashes brushed Taeyong’s skin. "We're very proud of what you've achieved, of what an incredibly talented person you are. So thank you for being there with us. We aren't NCT without you."

The kind words Mark spoke invoked a horrid mixture of gratitude, warmth, nausea, and guilt in Taeyong, which simultaneously caused his heart to flutter and cold sweat to form on his neck as his disgust towards himself increased. His headache returned; this time even worse than before, along with the urge to hurl. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, rubbing Mark’s back. “You’re a great person, Mark Lee.”

Mark had grown up so much. Taeyong had missed the moment where it happened naturally; Mark was one of the most reasonable people he knew.

They fell silent, and as Taeyong was about to doze off, Mark’s voice vibrated ever so softly against his throat. 

“Are you eating enough?” Mark asked.

Taeyong frowned. If he threw up because of the churning in his gut and the overall sense of nausea he felt, he doubted much would come up. 

"Yes."

"Hyung, you're lying." 

A fact Taeyong didn't respond to. 

"Do you sleep enough?"

"Most of the time."

"And there it is, another lie." 

Taeyong winced.

"Mark, what are you-"

“I guess we’ll change that starting tomorrow,” Mark decided with resolution. This situation was strangely familiar to Taeyong - like a déjà vu. 

“You picked that up from Baekhyun-Hyung, didn’t you?” he accused, with no actual heat behind his words.

“Baekhyun-Hyung is a man full of wisdom.” Mark squeezed his hand and paused for a couple of seconds before continuing to speak. “And tomorrow ... tomorrow I will talk to ...” he trailed off.

“Who will you talk to?” Taeyong got an uneasy feeling. His eyes narrowed. “You will not do anything rash without talking to me first, right?”

“I would never do anything thoughtless.”

**********

Taeyong slept till noon; someone had pulled up the blinds in the morning, exposing his face now to the golden midday sun. He groaned, squinted, and forced his tired muscles to heave his body out of bed after a moment of just feeling the rays of sunlight warming up his skin.

He sat on the edge of the mattress. The room was spinning and his stomach was turning violently. Everything hurt. Every single cell in his body just hurt and his head was killing him, sending sharp spikes of pain through his skull with every movement.

He should probably do something about that.

Taking slow, careful steps, he dragged himself into the kitchen, grabbed some painkillers. Leaning against the kitchen table with his eyes closed, he gripped onto the edges, waiting for the pain to leave him alone. 

The painkillers did their job as it dulled his pain for at least a short while and gave way to another feeling of discomfort. The silence enveloping him was what he feared; he became unnerved when all he could hear were the sharp ticking noises of the kitchen clock, the beating of his heart, and the quiet inhales and exhales of his breathing. 

Restless, he looked around and distracted himself before the silence could press him down.  
The traces his friends had left were still fresh. On the dining room table lay a half-eaten sandwich, waiting to be finished by Donghyuck. Over there, Johnny's favorite coffee mug sat on the table next to the door. He always placed it there while he put on his shoes and then forgot about it. 

If things had been different, Taeyong would have asked their manager to give them a day off.

Days when all he had to do was to stay in bed, lazing around and cuddling with Johnny, watching movies, and coming up with new lyrics, were well cherished as well as needed. Johnny excitedly gave his input on everything Taeyong was working on, it was endearing. Every song Taeyong composed, had at least one line written by his boyfriend - their secret deal.

But their old manager was gone and any request would be surely followed by humiliation.

**********

Curled up in a soft blanket, Taeyong lay on the couch. His head was sticking out of the blanket-cave, while he stared absently at a reality show on the TV. 

The front door creaked open and Donghyuck’s enthusiastic ‘ _We’re back, Hyung!_ ’ made his body wince and his head throb. He suppressed a groan, forced a smile; put on a brave facade.

One by one, the rest of NCT 127 poured into the room. Jungwoo flopped down on the couch, happily munching on sticky chocolate, licking it off his fingers and beaming at his leader, while Johnny’s comforting voice asked everyone what to order for dinner. Meanwhile, the rest of the guys were just chatting loudly and joking around, and the noises were slowly suffocating Taeyong.

With a minuscule smile on his face, he listened to Jungwoo's chirpy chatter blankly as he counted the members in his head. Stopped. He sat up with his spine ramrod straight, and his heart was sent racing for the umpteenth time these past days. 

"Mark’s missing," he said. "Where's Mark?"

Jungwoo faltered in his babbling and gawked at him, puzzled.

“He’s ... uh, why are you looking at me this concerned?” Jungwoo furrowed his brow, lowering the chocolate bar.

“Jungwoo-yah.” Taeyong caught his arm. “Where _is_ he? Still downstairs? In the car? Is he buying snacks?”

Startled by Taeyong’s sudden change in mood, Jungwoo peered over his shoulder at Johnny, seeking the help of the older, but Johnny, immersed in a conversation with Jaehyun, didn’t notice his silent plea.

“Mark, uh, will join us soon.” Jungwoo’s smile was fake. Jungwoo’s smile was never fake, and Taeyong felt a burst of panic in his stomach. “He wanted to talk to someone at the company,” Jungwoo added quickly to dispel Taeyong’s worries.

“With who?”

“I, uhhhhm, I think he said with one of the staff members. Can’t remember.” He shrugged.

“Which staff member?” 

“Is there something wrong?” Jungwoo fiddled nervously with his phone, clearly uncomfortable with Taeyong’s intense stare. “Mark is doing much better today if you’re worried. Really, we’ve all been looking out for him.” Placing the phone down out of reach from his hands he looked up at Taeyong. “He’s fine.”

Panic turned to fear and Taeyong snapped.

" _Who's_ the one Mark's talking to?!" 

The room fell dead silent. He hadn't realized that he had raised his voice to an extent where everyone had heard him. All the members were staring at him in deep shock, because they had never seen their leader behaving so out of character. Not once, even in the most strenuous of times.

Doyoung, highly alerted, came up to Taeyong and knelt in front of him. He took Taeyong’s hand and squeezed it, but Taeyong’s breathing sped up way too fast, and his throat constricted just enough so he couldn’t talk well or breathe much. His pupils dilated and caused everything in his sight to blur into multicolored blobs as white noise filled his ears and drowned out all the other 

“Hey, slow there,” he calmed him. “Yongie? Can you please look at me?”

Jungwoo stood up from the couch, clinging to Taeil and Johnny immediately moved over.

"Calm down, love. You’re safe," Johnny said. "Deep breaths, okay?"

Wrapping an arm around Taeyong's waist, he pulled the latter close to his side and it should have made Taeyong feel safe, but it didn't. It only made him feel more trapped. 

"Please, I-" A ragged breath, pleading eyes. "Who is Mark with? I need to know."

Doyoung and Johnny exchanged a look. Johnny gave a nod and Doyoung’s jaw set, stricken with confusion and concern as Johnny started talking at a slow, careful pace.

"He's talking to our manager, but it's no big deal and he will be home soon."

Taeyong's heart missed a beat, and a thread of dread pierced through him with a cold needle of fear.

" _Alone_?" he breathed, "You just left him _alone_ with the manager?" His voice got dangerously desperate and his hands were clutching Johnny’s shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Johnny, this is-" _Out of control. Slipping out of his fingers. This couldn't **be**._

_I'm not doing anything thoughtless_ , Mark's words echoed through the back of his head. This idiot. _Mark, you fucking idiot. You should have told me. You should have talked to me._

Doyoung's face drained of all color the moment he saw the deep terror within Taeyong's eyes. He sensed the fear lingering in the air, frightened as to why his best friend was distressed and worked up over something so trivial; he touched trembling fingertips to Taeyong's cheek. 

"Taeyong, please listen," he said, "right now, you are just a little ..."

"I have to go," Taeyong whispered. " _Now_. You all don't know what-" He cut himself off and bit his tongue. 

Taeyong let go of Johnny and jerked away, storming off toward the door at a restless pace.

He was having trouble breathing evenly as he grabbed his shoes and jacket when his head shot up at the sound of the clear ring of the doorbell, effectively cutting through the static in his mind.

_"Hello, it's me, Dong Youngmi! You forgot something."_


End file.
